


Take Me Home

by ReinaOfTheSirens



Category: Septiplier - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Break Up, Domestic Violence, Emotional Constipation, Emotional Hurt, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Eventual Relationships, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Possible Character Death, Single Parents, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-29
Updated: 2017-11-04
Packaged: 2018-08-11 17:06:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 40,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7900831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReinaOfTheSirens/pseuds/ReinaOfTheSirens
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Caught in the talons of an unfortunate situation, Mark finds himself wandering around town in search of a place to stay—a place his daughter can call home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Impulses

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoy!!! n///n

I couldn't feel my legs as I ran passed all the excruciatingly slow people walking on the busy sidewalk. The stares of the unknown surrounding me threw darts my way. It was most likely because I failed to apologize after I'd accidentally collide against them.

I couldn't help it though; I was desperate. My throat was, not only painfully sore from all the yelling I was doing, but also uncomfortably dry due to my panting and wheezing. My lungs were begging me to take a break, and a gnawing pain sheeted over my chest with a horrible intensity; but despite my body's complaints, I didn't dare stop running.

I was sure that my body was going to give out on me, and I was going to end up plastered on the concrete to cook in the California heat, but my eyes were suddenly fixated on a tiny silhouette. My tiny human! My daughter! I sprinted, or more like bee lined, towards my little girl with some of the last ounces of strength I had in me.

"Where do you think you've been?!" I yelled, which I regretted instantaneously. The vibrations of my voice seemed to cut through my dry throat, but I was furious. Relieved but furious.

She must have seen me, or my flaming red hair, at some point before I screamed. As soon as I faced her, she had sparkles gleaming in her eyes; and a wide grin stretched perfectly across her round face.

"Daddy!" She chirped, her charcoal eyes and goofy smile failing to lose so much as a hint of her joy.

"Don't you 'Daddy' me! Do you know how worried I was?!" I could feel myself wanting to rant, but I took deep yet painful breaths to stop myself from doing so. There would be a time and place for that, and this was not the time nor the place.

"I'm sorry, Da- Papa," she mumbled, her radiance dimming as she slumped over and her excitement deflated onto the ground. My heart wrenched with guilt. Damn, how she knew that I couldn't stand seeing her like this.

I was going to pull her into a hug until I noticed that she was hiding both of her hands behind her back; she would usually cover her face in embarrassment when someone scolded her or start rubbing her eyes to hold back tears at the very least.

"What do you have there, baby girl?" I asked curiously. Little gleams of light returned to her eyes as she held out her hands. A copious amount of flowers adorned her small fists, and my jaw dropped in both astonishment and confusion. Where could she have gotten flowers in the middle of the city?

"These are beautiful, baby; but why did you pick them?" I gently inquired. Her signature grin made a comeback, superfluous amounts of giggles chiming in the air surrounding her.

"Happy birthday, Daddy!" She squealed, extending her hands, silently demanding me to accept the flowers that she had so thoughtfully retrieved for me.

I felt my knees give way from under me in a failed attempt to level myself with my daughter. I, obviously, scrapped myself in the process; and she giggled carelessly at my pain, but I didn't care. It was so much better than seeing her upset.

I cupped my hands together once I situated myself on the concrete, putting them a few inches under hers; and she carefully let the flowers rain into them and picked up a few that had fallen.

Tears threatened to spill profusely from my eyes as I thought of the reason why we were out on the street in the first place. Here we were, trying to escape the confines of a house that promised us no warmth or refuge; yet my little girl thought nothing of it. Instead of questioning me and complaining, she follows me blindly like a sheep to its shepherd.

However, I am no shepherd. I was a sheep trying to guide another sheep away from the unruly waters. Another type of guilt tore holes in my soul as I envisioned our future in a place like this—the street.

Finally, my thoughts caught up to me and tears splattered on the flowers I held in my hands. I quickly put my gift in the small duffel bag I forgot I was carrying, and I looked up at my beloved child. She must think I'm pathetic, just like her mother does, for crying.

"Did you not like the flowers, Daddy? I can put them back!" She exclaimed, horrified by even the notion that I may have not liked her gift to me.

"You know I love flowers, Princess," I chuckled as streams of anguish continued to flow down my face without a care.

"Then why are you crying, Daddy? Are you hurting?" She furrowed her eyebrows in concern and pouted.

"Because I absolutely adored them, Baby. I'm so happy that I got flowers from you that I'm crying with happiness," I lied, grabbing her arms and tugging her into my embrace so I could tuck her in the crook of my neck. I love her so much I can't bare to watch her suffer in the slightest. I sobbed frantically, holding my baby close to me with no intention of letting go anytime soon.

People who passed us by only glanced at us awkwardly. Some of the ones I'd bumped into earlier showed a feeling of sympathy for me and continued walking. I heard a shuttering of a camera as well, but I didn't make a scene out of it. Instead, I hid my eyes in my daughter's hair to discreetly catch a glimpse of the person who had taken the picture.

To my surprise, it wasn't a woman. A pretty lanky looking guy just stood in the distance, his neon green hair being the most noticeable part of him. If I were to ever actually talk to him, I think he'd be some kind of douche or fuckboy; but I was in no position to judge others based on their appearances. I was taught better than that.

I brushed away my thoughts rather quickly. After all, I wanted nothing more than to relish in the feeling of my baby girl cuddled close to me. Fear and insecurity sprouted in the back of my mind, as they always do.

'Someday,' I thought, 'you will get tired of me, just like your mother did.' I squeezed her a little tighter, earning a small yelp from her.

"I can't breathe straight, Daddy!" She warned dramatically. I chuckled and loosened my arms only a tad bit.

'Until then,' I continued my inner monologue from earlier, 'I will stop at nothing to make sure you are safe and happy.'

I pulled away, smiling widely at my living embodiment of joy. I rubbed the pads of my thumbs across the apples of her cheeks, and she giggled excitedly. She suddenly stopped when her eyes were seemingly enthralled by something.

I followed the direction of her gaze and found that she was staring at the guy from earlier. His face was substantially more pink than I remembered---his ears were colored the same shade of pink as his face. Maybe he was shy or he was slightly intimidated by the child in front of me. That wouldn't be the first time.

"Daddy, look! His hair is so green!" She stated, blatantly pointing at the poor guy that was only a few feet away from us. I shot her a disapproving glare and lowered her arm.

"Don't do that! It's rude to point at people, Honey," I scolded her quietly. I turned around to inspect the stranger once more, and his face had darkened several shades. Poor thing; he was trembling.

"Is he a grass fairy, Daddy?" She whispered loudly into my ear.

"No, he's not a grass fairy." I chuckled a little, shaking my head.

I took the opportunity to stare at the guy's hair. It complemented his pale skin quite nicely and contrasted with the color that had spread across his features, but there was something undoubtedly familiar about it—the green of his hair.

It dawned on me as I reached for my baby's hands; they were green, stained after holding the flowers in her hand. It was endearing, in an odd way.

The sound of a high pitched yawn brought me back to Earth. I glanced over at what was a living ball of fire and watched as its flare began to diminish gradually. I knew the words that were about to be spoken to me, 'Daddy, I think I'm sleepy,' or something along those lines.

"Daddy, I'm tired," she mumbled, rubbing her eyes and yawning again. Honestly, I was tired too.

"Let's go to the park; so we can sit on the benches, okay?" I cooed while I picked myself off the ground.

"Then you can sing me a song. Right, Daddy?" She asked quietly, raising her arms.

"Yes, Baby. I'll sing you a song," I replied as I slung my duffel bag in order to carry my little girl. As soon as I had her against my chest, she buried her face in neck and latched her tiny arms around it. I pressed my cheek against the side of her head before kissing her softly.

'I love you, my little Aya,' I thought and began to take slow and gentle steps toward the park. 'I will always love you.'


	2. Restlessness

My head swam for what seemed like the thousandth time today.

"We're lost again, aren't we?" My little princess huffed against my neck.

"Of course not, Baby. I just need the walk," I lied. Truth be told, I'd been out here plenty of times before; but for some reason, today I've gotten lost more than I ever have in my entire life. I was currently walking in circles, still trying to get to the park; and my little girl, clearly, wasn't stupid.

She didn't reply to me though. She only shrugged and nestled herself back into my shoulder, which brought me comfort. She must really be exhausted.

I squeezed my eyes shut for only a few seconds, trying to avoid dwelling on the situation; but it was too late for that. I shook my head and opened my eyes. Maybe if I actually pay attention to where I'm going I can get to the damn park!

'Okay, Mark. Just two more blocks, buddy. Don't fuck it up like you always do,' I tried to encourage myself; but it was starting to morph into insults. I can't even back myself up; I'm pathetic.

A wistful aura enveloped me. Walking among people only made the feeling ingrain itself further into me. A heavy fog of loneliness separated me from the rest of the world, and I was fighting the urge to run blindly into nothingness and scream into any pair of ears that could hear me.

'This is why no one stays with you, you idiot. You're weak as shit! The toddler in your arms probably has more balls than you ever will!,' I reprimanded myself for tearing up at the same thought I've had before. I'm so not the manly man I should be according to society.

'You proud of me now, Mom?!' I chuckled silently at my random comment. I was good at distracting myself sometimes. It was a power that appeared in small bursts at any given time, and I was glad that it settled in on me now. I wouldn't want to do anything reckless with my daughter in arms.

Finally, I took a few more steps and noticed that the park was just across the street. A relieved sigh escaped from my lungs, and my entire body relaxed.

However, the fact that I was standing here didn't make the light turn green any faster. In fact, it was extremely frustrating how slow time was passing by. I can be patient, don't get me wrong, it's just that I have more patience for humans than for objects; and this object was seriously grinding my gears. As I attempted to calm down, I discovered that I had been furiously tapping my foot.

"You okay there?" I shot my head towards the Irish sounding voice, slightly startled by its suddenness. It was the bright-faced, green-haired guy.

"Oh, yeah! I'm fine. Just waiting for this thing to turn green. My daughter wants to go to the park; she's really tired and she just wants to rest for a little. She hasn't really had much sleep, so I-," I started to quickly explained myself.

"Hey, man, I get it. You don't need to explain yourself. You're fine. Have you been standing here long?" He asked. It sounded more like a rhetorical question to me, but maybe that was because I didn't want to make small talk at this moment.

"Yeah, kinda," I answered silently, in case it was truly a rhetorical question. He nodded and walked passed me and towards the street.

"What are you doing, you id-" I yelled after him, but was interrupted by a loud beeping sound.

"Had you already pressed the button?" He inquired, pointing towards the considerably large block of steel that stood out from a pole. I lowered my face a tad, wishing Aya's hair could hide half of the embarrassment I felt at the moment.

"Well, I-" I was stammering with my words until I saw the taunting red light abruptly darken to give way for the green one under it to free me.

"Won't you look at that! It's green! I gotta go!" I blurted before bolting in front of the now halted traffic. I scurried into the tiny paths surrounded by small bushes and trees; and I plopped onto a bench that was under a tree, seemingly isolated from the rest of the benches.

Aya stared at me expectantly after she felt me sit down. I took advantage of that time to admire her wide eyes—the purest most unadulterated black orbs I'd ever seen. Many would debate that her eyes were dark brown but no. She had polished obsidian stones in her eye sockets, and they were breathtakingly gorgeous.

"You still have to sing me a song, Daddy," she reminded me as she tugged lightly at my shirt. "Please," she begged.

"I know, Baby," I sighed, "I'll sing you a song. Just relax." I cleared my throat, looking around me in case a lot of people were passing by. Luckily, there was little to no movement around me; thus, there was no need to fret over the volume of my voice.

"Here in this world I'm awaked with mistakes, but it's love that keeps fueling me. Fueling me~" I began to sing quietly. Aya's eyelids were drooping in that very instant. It was her favorite song to doze off to, after all.

My arms coiled around her delicate frame, and they formed a shield around her as I continued singing. The hug became a paternal barrier I had established between her and the rest of the world. Even if it was for a moment, I needed her to escape from the reality she was so blissfully unaware of—not for her sake, but my own.

"Pretty little lady, with the swollen eyes, won't you show them to me~" I added. It hit me, after recalling the lyrics to come, that I wasn't singing this song for my daughter to sleep. I was doing so for myself—for my sanity.

I held my tongue then. There was something unsettling about the place where I was sitting; it didn't feel like it did when I first sat here.

I wasn't sure if I was ready to look up either, but I swallowed some of my fear in order to potentially protect my daughter. I puffed my chest and raised my chin, willing to face the world. I was being the complete opposite of what I would be if I were alone.

However, upon raising my head, I was greeted by a crowd of people enclosing me and their phones pointed directly at me and my daughter. My jaw trembled; fury glazed my vision; I was ready to punch somebody. If I hated something more than slow-ass traffic lights, it was inconsiderate people meddling in others' personal lives.

I basically growled as I rose from the bench. The heat of my anger made my eye twitch, yet I could feel my heart grow colder by the second. I was about to prowl right through the human barricade like a bull; however, the now familiar green fluff stood clear in my view through the crowd and reminded me of Aya's tiny hands stained with the selfless affection she offered me with flowers.

Why must he be everywhere?

I shook off my frustration. My arms remained locked around Aya as I excused myself from the circle of people, who were nice enough to grant me passage without a fuss. I wasn't even a yard away before Mr. Green started shouting after me.

Surprisingly enough, Aya didn't wake up. Wait? She actually fell asleep?! Lord, hallelujah! I know that it was only two lines, but it looks like miracles do exist! People have no idea how painstakingly hard it is to make her sleep; I felt like I'd done something groundbreaking like finally find the cure for cancer.

I let a tiny smile tug at the corners of my lips. She was so cute when she slept; I wish she'd do it more often, but I can't have my hopes too high. She'll learn to appreciate sleep one day, or she'll wish she could recover all the sleep she didn't have in all these years. Until then, I'll have to stick to this uncomfortably flexible sleep schedule she has going on.

I went in search for a hotel or motel, whatever came into sight first. Call me uncultured, but I still didn't understand the difference between the two. They both had beds and showers, and that was all that mattered to me. I was also begging for Aya not to wake up in the midst of my search. I would die—figuratively—of course.

After a few hours, I found a place that wasn't too expensive for me yet wasn't excessively trashy. I was on a limited budget, but I wasn't going to let Aya sleep in a place resembling a garbage disposal. I looked at the card in my hands—room 224. Unfortunately, there were no elevators in this place, and my arms and legs were heavier than lead to me.

'Now is not time to give up!' I gave myself the liberty of pep-talking myself to go through with it, since no one else would. I jogged up the stairs to the second floor with the last bit of energy I had. I thought I wouldn't make it to the room, but I was so glad when I did.

It took me much longer than I thought just to open the door; everything is slightly harder when I'm trying to keep Aya asleep. However, after a while, it seemed like the door understood how spent I was and the predicament I was in and didn't reject the key. I gently pushed the door open with my foot and quickly accessed the room.

It was just as plain as I expected it to be, if not more. It wasn't very tidy either, but it wasn't junk. The rug was a deep shade of green, battered and faded in some areas. One could definitely tell that it had a run for its money. The walls were grey with a sickly yellow undertone. The curtains were a color between beige and pink; they were thick, as if to block out the entire world. I was pretty sure that the annoying rays of morning sun weren't going to be a problem.

The room wasn't comforting at all. In fact, it looked remarkably similar to the place that I was trying to escape from; yet there was a key difference—there was no fear hindering my breathing or Aya's sleep. I took a few deep breaths before closing the door and walking slowly into the room. I didn't take the time to analyze the room further; my arms were too tired. I set my little princess down on the only bed there was in here and sighed as my arms lazily fell at my sides. It was about time for me to rest too. I flung my duffel bag onto the little desk at the corner of the room and rummaged through it.

'No...no... no no no no no NO!' I internally screamed. 'This can't be happening!'

My sleeping aids were nowhere to be found. How could I have forgotten to pack my medication? How was I going to rest now? I eventually came to terms with the fact that I had fucked up. I just didn't know what I was going to do all night. Well, I suppose that I had all night to figure that out. The only thing that mattered to me now was that Aya was asleep—safe and sound asleep—with nothing to worry about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Looks like I made this chapter a little wordy. Updates on this story are probably going to get a lot slower from here on out; and for that, I deeply apologize. I'm gonna try to update this, at least once a week. Feedback, again, is recommended and encouraged! Thank you all so much for the support; I love reading your comments and seeing your kudos; it gives me life and motivation! I love you!!! 
> 
> ~Reina Kalopsia


	3. Good Bones

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so very sorry for the late update, but I made this a somewhat longer chapter to kinda make up for it! I hope you enjoy!

My head was throbbing inside of my skull; I felt like death itself had taken possession of my body. I didn't know what to do with myself at this point. I spent most of the night surfing the channels that the TV provided; I muted it to ensure that Aya's sleep remained undisturbed. I also tried to coax myself to sleep somehow, but none of my methods worked. I could feel irritability boil over in the pit of my soul. Today was going to be one of those days in which espresso was crucial to keep me from murdering someone...or everyone.

Just to make things worse, this was going to be my unfortunate reality for quite some time. I knew I could just walk into a pharmacy and buy some sleeping aids; but if I could save some money by not buying them, I would rather do that. I could live with the sleepless nights, but Aya was a different situation. Not that she would go nights without sleeping but she'll need of other things—food, for instance. Money was definitely going to be a problem in the future, but I didn't want to over think everything just yet. I would have plenty of time to do that later; I'm just going to save a little cash and not buy the sleeping aids. 

I was right yesterday about the light of the morning thing. The room was still extremely dark, and it was about to be nine. The only reason why I knew it was morning was because I peeked behind the curtains, and I checked the clock. 

Aya was still knocked out. I had considered going downstairs to get a cup of coffee several times, but there was no way I would leave her alone. I also thought that I should wake her up; however, I wanted her to have as much sleep as possible. Ultimately, I decided to wake her up; so she could eat something before the breakfast bar closed. I was fully expecting her to be beyond cranky, but she would forgive me after I let her eat a waffle on her own.

"Aya, Baby, it's time to get up," I announced. I was about to shake her a little when her head snapped in my direction. Shivers clawed down my spine as I stared into her cold, dark eyes. Those menacingly empty eyes—they reminded me so much of her mother. It was in times like these in which I was convinced that she was the spawn of Satan and Satan alone, despite being the spitting image of me when I was a child. She glared at me for a few seconds, flared her nostrils in disgust, and scrambled to her feet. I flinched a little when I heard the bed creak, but I recognized the sound of springs crying for mercy. 

"Good morning, Daddy!" She bounced joyfully. I couldn't tell whether she was actually a morning person or was just faking it to make me happy, but I would take what came to me. I guess she just had her days.

"Good morning," I replied once the initial shock made its way out of my system. 

"Are you hungry?" I asked her; and on cue, her stomach roared, eyes widened, and arms rapidly covered her belly. 

"Let's go eat, Hun." I smiled tenderly.

"Okay!" She chirped.

I checked the room for the last time, just to make sure that nothing was being left behind. We didn't have much to begin with, so that was a fairly easy task. I adjusted my bag back on my shoulder and held Aya's hand before opening the door. There was something purely déjà vu about leaving. I tightened my grip a little on Aya's hand, but she immediately let go as she gasped at something she spotted on the floor. 

"Aya, what are you doing?" I rolled my eyes, but once I looked at her I could understand her astonishment. In her hands was a bouquet of roses about the size of three-fourths of her body, and her eyes were glued on a card that stood prominently on the very top.

"There's a M like in monkey and a L like in lion!" She proudly affirmed.

"Let me see, Baby," I commanded softly.

"What does it say?!" She eagerly screamed.

"Let me see what is says first, Baby," I muttered, "'a little birdie told me that you like flowers,'" I read out loud. I flipped the card to see if there was a signature anywhere, but my search was in vain. However, I had a sneaking suspicion that I knew whom this was from. 

"Oh! Birdies can talk, Daddy?! I wanna talk to a birdie!"

"No, Baby," I burst her bubble, "Birdies don't talk." Aya pouted and stomped down the hallway.

"Where do you think you're going, young lady?" I hollered after her.

"I wanna eat breakfast!" She yelled; I winced at the sheer volume of it. For such a small child, she had some truly powerful lungs. I wondered, again, if this tiny human actually had anything genetically similar to me. 

Aya turned to face the stairs only to be greeted by a sudden gravity check. Her little knees wobbled like a fawn on ice, and the only direction she was going now was down. As soon as she made contact with the floor, she stared at it in horror before unleashing a bloodcurdling scream from deep within her.

Yea...she was definitely mine.

I huffed quietly, running to my crying child. The last thing I wanted was for someone to complain about how my child was 'disturbing the peace.' I'd received that remark one too many times. I knelt beside Aya, who was a bawling mess on the floor and, basically, shoved her face in my shoulder, completely ignoring the roses as they fell next to Aya.

"Now, now," I rubbed little circles onto my little girl's back, letting her muffled whimpers resonate throughout my chest. 

"You're gonna be okay, Baby. I promise," I whispered soothingly into her ear. A piece of my heart writhed in agony as I did so. How could I do so much as utter such an immense lie? I knew that I was simply talking about a small thing at the moment, but it wasn't going to be a small thing in a few minutes, or hours, or days. 

Goddammit! Why couldn't I think things out more thoroughly before dragging my dear princess under the bus like this. I felt tears sting my eyes, and I frantically blinked them away; I hated myself for wanting to cry every fifteen minutes. I can't even do what's best for my daughter. What on Earth was wrong with me? If I would have just been a man for two seconds and not have ran away like that, my baby wouldn't even be crying on the floor right now.

"You're n-not gonna l-leave the flowers on t-the floor, ri-ight Daddy?" Aya sniffled, pulling away a little to rub the tears from her eyes. I studied her for a little bit, slightly taken aback by her concern for the roses; but I couldn't possibly not take them now that she pointed them out.

"Yes, Honey. I'm not going to leave the flowers on the floor," I asserted. She looked up at me, stars radiantly gleaming in her eyes. 

"I want food, Daddy," she blurted almost completely out of nowhere. I couldn't help myself and laughed at the randomness of her comment. Well, it wasn't random; but it was a little out of place in the little conversation we were starting.

At that moment, I wished that I could be a child again; it was so easy to over think things when you are older. I wanted to be able to forget about the cruelty of society and be able to ignore the gravity of my actions. I yearned for those moments in which I was carefree, and I hoped that Aya could keep that mentality for a while—even if people thought her naive.

I carried Aya down the stairs and let her have anything she wanted from the little breakfast table the staff set up. We took advantage of the free food and gorged ourselves. Many of the people there furrowed their eyebrows at us, convinced that we were starving animals; but they knew nothing about us, so they didn't matter.

After we finished, we left the hotel. Now, it finally crossed my thoughts that I had no idea where I was going; we didn't have a destination in mind. I didn't want to bother my family in Cincinnati, so that wasn't an option. Only insane would I leave Aya with her mother's parents; that definitely was not an option. If I continued the routine of wandering around then coming to a hotel, I would run out of money in less than a week. I was at a total loss; and consequently, Aya was too.

"Can we go to the park today too, Daddy?" Aya grinned, excitement practically beaming off of her. 

"We went to the park yesterday, are you sure?" I expressed a little of my reluctance to backtrack. I wasn't even familiar with where we were, so finding my way back would be a chore.

"I fell asleep, Daddy! I didn't even get to go on the swings and the slide and the...uh...the..." She trailed off, frustration starting to bubble as she tried to find the word she was looking for.

"AH! Daddy! What's the uppy-downy thingy?" She squeaked and flailed her arms.

'Uppy-downy thingy?' What on Earth could she be talking about? I envisioned the fundamentals of a stereotypical playground and said the first thing that came to mind that matched her description.

"A seesaw?" I spoke, still unsure if that was what she was trying to say.

"Yeah! A seesaw!" She joyously twirled.

"You need two people to really be on a seesaw, Princess," I added.

"You can be on the other side, Daddy!" She giggled. She was definitely not going to give up on her idea now that I've fueled the fire. 

"Fine, Baby. We'll go to the park today, but only for a little while," I tried to sound stern, but it was difficult for me. Every time I caught myself being slightly demanding, goosebumps formed and fear crawled under my skin. I couldn't stand the thought of being anything like Lauren.

"Yay! Thank you, Daddy!" Aya rejoiced, hugging as much of me as she could. I chuckled under my breath and held out my hand, which she immediately squeezed.

I, honestly, didn't think that we'd make it to the park as quickly as we did. Neither did I expect the park to be as vacant as it was. People buzzed around it, absorbed in the monotonous flow of the city. Aya, however, didn't care to notice how lonely the park was; if anything, she was ecstatic to have the park all to herself. She let go of my hand and bolted directly to the slide.

I had to admit to myself that I was quite jealous of the park. Although it was empty and devoid of any other human life, it was admirable the way it tried to connect the messy city life with the wonders of nature. The trees were like guardians of innocence, for little to nothing could be seen from the outside—or the inside, for that matter.

"Hey there!" A more than enthusiastic voice startled me out of any whatever world I was in.

"What the fuck?!" I interjected, not paying any importance to the stream of profanities that I recited to myself internally. I glanced beside me to see, the one and only, Mr. Green standing a little too close to me for comfort.

"Startle ya?" He questioned, grinning so wide it must have been hurting him.

"Just a little surprised is all," I muttered under my breath.

"Ah, I getcha," he nodded. 

"Do you come here often?" He continued.

"Not really. No." I responded laconically. I wasn't really in the mood for this, but he wasn't going to stop talking anyway. I could feel it.

"Oh, do you live nearby?" He inquired like he were asking a simple question to a friend. How blatantly confident or socially uneducated was this guy? I'm suppose that it could be an ordinary question, but there was an unnatural urge begging me to reply truthfully. That is what petrified me to the core.

"Not really. No." I repeated, hoping to the heavens that he would take the hint and shut up.

"It's usually very peaceful here—not like the rest of the city! It's a cool place for kids. How old is she?" He went on, lifting his chin in Aya's general direction. I had to admit, it was a brilliant place to bring a child; but I didn't want to prolong this encounter more than necessary by answering. However, I couldn't bring myself to completely ignore him.

"She's three." I replied, letting a gentle grin curve my lips as I watched Aya run in circles around the swing set. 

"Hey, I don't know how to explain this; but I know you two are in a tight spot," he blurted, concern swimming in his blue eyes. I furrowed my brows and, more than likely, grimaced at his statement. What did he plan to do—give me money? What did I look like? A pauper? A beggar?

"Hello, Mr. Green!" An ecstatic, squeaky voice spoke from beside me. I cringed out of sheer embarrassment, and the guy just chuckled under his breath.

"Hello there, Princess," he widened his smile, irking me. She was my little princess; I was the one who had raised her and this random person just thinks he has the right!

"Her name is Aya," I growled, much to Mr. Green's amusement.

"Hello, Aya! My name is Sean, but my friends call me Jack," he introduced himself.

"Am I your friend? Can I call you Jack?" Aya requested to know as soon as possible.

"Do you wanna be my friend?" He asked simply. I wanted so desperately for her to say no, but I knew that wasn't going to happen.

"Yes!" She squealed, hugging Sean's leg. I was so jealous at how easily she became enthralled with other people. It terrified me.

"Look, I know this is sudden; but I can offer you guys a room in my house," he spoke with nothing but genuine kindness lacing his voice. 

"Thanks...," I muttered, "but no thanks. We don't need that."

"Are you sure?" He began. "I'm pretty sure you don't have a steady flow of money coming your way, and staying in motels won't make saving any easier for you," he refuted. I wasn't sure what to do. I knew that he was right, but how could he expect me to trust someone I just met. 

"Daddy..." Aya tugged at the bottom of my flannel, puppy dog eyes on full blast. I felt trapped; if we stayed out here, we were fucked; if we walked back there, we were fucked; and even if we left with Sean, we were fucked. I sighed, giving up any sense of reason I had to the wolves.

"Alright..." I murmured. "I'll accept your hospitality," I whispered, feeling my pride shatter against the sound waves of my voice. I'm so dumb, but I'm doing this for Aya.

"Let's go home, then," Sean chimed triumphantly. I flinched at his choice of words, knowing what was to follow.

"No!" Aya shrieked, terror reflecting on the tears that were rolling down her cheeks. I picked her up, and she nestled in the crook of my neck. I stared at an extremely confused Sean as I shook my head slowly. I could tell that he wanted to say something, but I shushed him before he could. 

"Daddy, I don't wanna go home," she whimpered, "Mommy's always mean when she's sick."

"I know, Baby," I tried to be as soothing as possible, whispering reassurances into Aya's ear. I signaled Sean to start walking; but as soon as Aya felt me move she screamed into my chest.

"We're going to Jack's house, Aya; we're not going home," I promised her. She turned her head to stare at Sean, who could only nod; and relaxed once she was certain that we weren't going home.

"Let's go then," I hurried, ready to question my every decision on my way to Sean's. He nodded again and continued to walk.

"By the way," I added, "my name is Mark."

"It's nice to meet you, Mark," he grinned, leading us out of the lonely park.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I'm so sorry for the late update. I had to go home on an emergency, and they don't have service of Wifi there. Consequently, I couldn't post anything on here. Updates will probably be either weekly or biweekly, depending on how I'm holding up. Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! Please share your thoughts with me, for your feedback is immensely appreciated! Thank you so much! I love you!


	4. Generosity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the delay, you all! I have a job again, so I have significantly less time to write... Anyway, on to what you're here for, I hope you all enjoy! Please leave me your feedback!
> 
> (Sorry if some of it really sucks. I haven't had time to edit, but I really wanted you all to have new content, so I hope you all forgive me!)

Sean said that his house wasn't too far from the park; I tried to memorize the path we were taking, but nothing I was focusing on seemed concrete enough to stay in place longer than a few seconds. The cookie-cutter houses didn't make my objective any easier either. These houses looked huge, which only served to silently belittle me, whether that was the intention or not was beyond me.

Aya skipped joyously beside me, trying to chat a little with Sean. The two seemed to have clicked in no time at all, and my feelings were turbulent in my mind over it. It relieved me to know that she would be comfortable with him, but the fact that she placed her faith in him so easily concerned me. 

"Are we there yet?" Aya huffed, walking a little slower than she was before. 

"We're just a few houses away," Sean responded, pointing at a house that wasn't in my line of sight yet.

"Yay!" Aya exclaimed and hopped in delight.

I hadn't spoken in a while; I was exhausted. The coffee I had this morning didn't help me forget my fatigue, and my muscles were so sore that I could swear that the weight of the universe was on top of me. Neither Sean nor Aya cared to notice my silence; and in a way, I was grateful that no one was asking questions. I just wanted to get to Sean's house and sleep for days, but I knew that was never going to happen. 

"Here we are!" He proudly pointed at his house once again. "Welcome to my humble abode," he added. My jaw dropped as I laid eyes on what he called his "humble abode."

"That's ginormous!" Aya blurted the words that I failed to express. 

"I guess it is, huh?" He tilted his head, seemingly analyzing the structure before him. Suddenly, I wanted to clamp Aya's hand in my fist and bolt in any direction. I didn't want to look like a leech on this guy, but it was beginning to ingrain itself into my head that I wasn't doing this to save face or for my own benefit. I would swallow my pride until it was nothing but waste—all for my little princess. 

"Can we go inside now?" Aya eagerly fidgeted in place, anxious to see what luxuries were awaiting her inside. 

"Yea, c'mon!" He leaded us to the front door. I had to admit that the house looked gorgeous from every angle. 

Knowing Aya's thought process, I was sure that she was imagining miniature ponies and crystal chandeliers littering the place. I would be lying if I were to say that I wasn't curious as to what was inside; but at the same time, I couldn't help but wonder where he got the money to buy a house like this. Was he a filthy rich douchebag trying to brag to some friends that he was a good Samaritan? Was he living off of his parents? Was he in the mafia?

"Make yourselves at home. How do they say it, 'mi casa su casa?'" He smiled sheepishly.

'Easier said than done,' I thought as I clutched the strap of my duffel bag. 

"Oh my God! Daddy, look!" Aya interjected, sprinting towards the back door to come face-to-face with a dog in the backyard. 

"It's so pretty, Daddy! Look! Look! Look!" She rambled, earning a laugh from Sean.

"His name is Sam," he told her while opening the door, letting the creature come into the house.

"He isn't much of a guard dog; he loves people," he added, and the dog wagged his tail vigorously. It reminded me so much of Lucy, my dog in Cincinnati, that homesickness made my chest constrict. Home was like a foreign word to me, an illusion that I was desperate to see—a delusion that I wanted to live in forever. 

"Hey Mark," Sean nudged me as he tried to speak as quietly as possible, "is there something wrong? You seem to be a little spaced out." He looked like he had been holding on to the thought for the longest time. I felt guilty for making him worry, but I simply forced a smile and shook my head. It relieved me to see him smile back before turning his attention back to Aya. I hoped that it would be the end of the questions for the day.

"She's so excited, almost like she'd never seen a dog before," Sean chuckled, making my blood run cold and my body tense up. Unfortunately, Sean was right; Aya had never had contact with a dog before. The only thing she knew about them was what I would tell her about the dogs I grew up with in Cincinnati. She'd seen plenty of dogs on TV; she'd just never played with one on an up-close-and-personal level. 

"Daddy, it's so pretty!" Aya repeated, hugging the canine's neck. It was an adorable sight to see, but it filled me to the brim with disappointment and sorrow to know that I couldn't give her these kinds of things myself. Yet again, I was undeniably envious of Sean and his ability to effortlessly make Aya happy.

"I know, it's beautiful," I agreed, carving the smile from before deeper into cheeks. It hurt. 

"Do you want me to show you a little around the house while Aya plays with Sam? I can go ahead and show where you'll be staying," Sean offered. I was fixated on rejecting, but Aya beat me to the punch.

"I'll come too!" She announced, signaling the dog to follow behind her.

"Okay," Sean croaked before clearing his throat. He turned towards the stairs, and my facade of happiness immediately cracked into an obvious grimace. 

"Do you happen to have any rooms on the first floor?" As I said before, my muscles were sore and spent. I feared the notion that I might have to tremble my way up the stairs otherwise. 

"Yea, I do; but they're not as big as the ones upstairs," he informed.

"I don't mind, I'll live," I added.

"Are you sure? It's-"

"I don't mind!" I enunciated, a little frustrated by his lack of inference skills. 

"Me either," Aya followed up, no clear emotion in her voice. Both of us stared at him until the message was finally welcomed into his brain that we didn't want to go into the other room.

"O-okay," he stuttered. I felt guilty for making him feel awkward, but the density of his skull was outlandish.

The house may have been huge, but it was fairly easy to remember where things were. Aya was in awe the entire time, engrossed in the feeling of a new house. I wanted to feel her enthusiasm for this place, but she had such an innocent mind and such a pure heart. I could only dream of regaining that innocence. 

I chuckled under my breath. 'You can't even sleep, much less dream anymore, Mark. What the fuck are you talking about?' I closed my eyes for a few seconds before pasting them on the cold tiles underneath me; my head was swimming. The rays of light were suddenly scolding against my skin, and the waves of sound were deafening inside my ears. I sucked up most of the hurt of my body, only pressing my finger near my forehead to help my misery subside. 

I opened my eyes, which I had no idea I had closed, and was about to ask Sean for the time until I noticed a clock on the wall. I had been quite some time since I had read an analogue clock. It took me a few minutes, but the clock served its purpose. It was four o'clock in the afternoon. Unusually, time was running quicker than I had expected. In the middle of my contemplation, Aya yanked at my shirt.

"Daddy, can I take a nap?" She whispered loudly, catching Sean's attention. It wasn't everyday that Aya asked to rest during the day, but I couldn't blame her. We weren't conditioned to the city; most of all we knew was the inside of a house—dull and monotonous.

"Of course you can," I cooed, caressing her cheek with my thumb. It was all well until Sean's glance locked on me; abruptly, the erratic pulsing of my chest made it hard to breathe. I smiled, not knowing in what other way to respond. 

"Let's just go to the room then," Sean lead, peeking at us every chance he could. I found it creepy, though, to an extent, I also thought it to be charming. Maybe I was just grateful for the stay and found his hospitality charming.

"Oh my-" I heard Sean as he stumbled forward. In the midst of my thoughts, I had yet to realize that I had bumped into him. 

"My bad," I stepped back, returning Sean some of his private space. He only laughed and signaled for me to look at my surroundings. 

The room was enormous! It was, easily, ten times bigger than the room we had in the hotel. Aya was amazed by the king sized bed that was in the heart of the room, and I was astonished by the fact that he had bigger rooms than this upstairs. I imagined that living here by oneself would be awfully lonely, but it was better than nothing at all. Or was it?

"Yaaaaaaay!" Aya burst, sprinting to the bed. Her tiny arms didn't have the strength to lift her onto the bed itself, but she tried desperately to climb up despite her clear disadvantage. 

In her, I could see the only trait that I admired from Lauren—her determination. Though it was, too, a weapon at times, it was what aided her through her troubles. It came to her so naturally; it was displayed on her sleeve as a replacement of her heart; it took the place of her nurturing nature. I just didn't know what her determination was working toward, or what was her ultimate objective. I'd lost sight of that a long time ago.

"Daddy! I can't get up!" Aya yelled from beside the bed. She scrunched her nose and crossed arms, glaring at the bed in frustration and denial. 

"I'm coming, Baby," I assured her. I didn't want to think of Lauren anymore. The thought of her petrified me—terrorized me—infuriated me. I lifted Aya onto the bed, feeling her lighter than before, taking note of how thin she had become in the past few weeks. Maybe the thought of Lauren haunted her too.

"Daddy, can I play with Sam when I wake up?" She begged with the cutest face she could muster.

"Of course you can, Honey," I affirmed, carefully arranging the pillows around Aya.

"Daddy, I'm not gonna fall," she whispered while she stared into my eyes.

"I know, Aya," I muttered so only she could hear me. I looked at Sean, who was entranced by his phone screen. I wish I had a phone; but at the same time, I was grateful that I didn't have one. It forced me to talk to people and live in the real world instead of a virtual one.

"Sleep well, Baby," I cooed and kissed Aya's forehead. She closed her eyes and fell asleep almost instantly. I smiling and dragged my feet toward Sean. I took out a few bills from my duffel bag and put it against the wall beside the door.

"Hey, Sean, I'm sorry I'm asking for this. You've done so much for us already, and I feel like I'm asking for too much, but I really want to-"

"Mark!" Sean interrupted my rant.

"Chill out, Man. Breathe. What do you want?" He grinned, leaning against the wall. 

I took a deep breath and ignored the flaring red of my cheeks. I started to fidget with my fingers and tap my foot quietly.

"I have a favor to ask you...," I stated, trembling from head to toe. I handed him the money I had in my hand and pleaded him to go through with what I asked of him.

"Is that really all you wanted? A s-"

"Shhh-shh-sh-sh-sh!" I hissed over him, not wanting Aya to possibly hear what he was trying to say.

"Okay, okay, okay! I'll go get it. I'll be right back," he rolled his eyes and left. I tiptoed back to the bed and began to pet Aya's hair, waiting for Sean to come back. I would take the time to explore later. I laid down beside her, at rest I could rest my legs for a while as I waited.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Please leave your comments and kudos to keep me alive! I love you!!!  
> ~Reina Kalopsia


	5. The Better Things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look who decided to update "early!" Me! I had some down time during the week and put it to 'good' use! I hope I didn't keep you all waiting for too long. Happy Friday!
> 
> (As always, feedback is encouraged; and I hope you enjoy!)

Not long after Sean left, Sam galloped into the room. I sat on the floor beside the bed and reached out to pet his silky fur. He plopped on the tile floor next to me and rolled onto his back, panting happily, inviting me to rub his belly. He demanded attention and was spoiled rotten, just like Lucy; but I think only a heartless, apathetic prick could resist the two puppies. 

I rejoiced in the nostalgia of home in Cincinnati. I missed the chill of the breeze and the essence of pine in my mother's backyard during autumn. My thinking wandered to the faces of my nieces and nephews as they all huddled on top of me, showing me a kind of love that would kill me if I were claustrophobic. I imagined Tom, my brother, chuckling in the background and filming the moment in order to replay it after Thanksgiving or Christmas dinner. 

'I wonder how they're doing,' I thought; for that was the only thing I could do. I hadn't spoken to anyone in my family, or even friends, since Lauren was pregnant with Aya. She needed of my absolute presence, at least that was the impression I had. A fear of setting off an alarm was earth shattering in my mind, so I never gathered the courage to so much as pick up the phone for a personal call, but I did it for her because she loved me. She told me so.

I squeezed my eyelids and purposely let the back of my head collide with the bed. I wanted to stop thinking all together, but an influx of Lauren's disappointment reached me from miles away. I was an idiot; I was incompetent; I was a doof, like I always was.

I was distracted by the unanticipated sound of someone shaking a doorknob, and I was grateful for the interruption. I slowly stood, relying on my sore muscles and the side of the bed to keep me steady. I brushed off the ache of my entire body and wobbled to the doorway of the room, witnessing Sean jog directly to me. I smiled at the bag in his hand—proof that he had, indeed, completed the errand I sent him on. I did what I wanted with the bag and its contents; Sean just watched, emotionless.

"Was it really that important?" He asked lethargically. I shrugged, walking out of the room. If I had learned anything in the last few hours, it was that Sean was extremely loud—exactly what Aya didn't need while she slept.

"Are you hungry?" He inquired. 

"Yea, I am," I replied. 'And sleepy,' I continued in between thoughts of food.

"Let's go to the kitchen; I'm hungry too," he added, skipping ahead of me and brightening the way like a fairy. I quietly dragged behind him, slouching like I wanted to roll into the fetal position while on two feet. I was similar to an intern tagging close behind a CEO; the massive abyss between our positions was atrocious, flagrant. The immensity of his house only served to make matters worse; it was so grandiose and elaborate in nature that I was insignificant in comparison. 

"You really need to work on paying attention when people talk to you," Sean ruffled my hair. 

"I'm sorry," I apologized reflexively. 

"You don't need to apologize," he remarked.

"I'm sorry," I repeated.

"Don't apologize so much. It's cool."

"I'm sor-"

"Mark!" He hollered, glaring at me. 

"Shut up," I hissed, instinct taking over me, "if you wake her up, I promise you that you'll regret it for the rest of your life."

"As if I'll forget you otherwise," he muttered to himself out loud.

"I beg your pardon?" I asked, despite having heard him clearly.

"What do you want to eat? I can make some macaroni and cheese or some chicken. I think there's some leftover pizza from yesterday," he listed, omitting my question entirely.

"Whatever is easier for you is fine with me," I stated, letting go of my question. As long as it was food and it was going to nourish both Aya and myself, I didn't care.

"Pizza it is then," he decided, fetching some cups from the cupboard and pouring us some lemonade. 

The silence was as awkward as any teenager would imagine it would be. As usual, I didn't want to make small talk; but the imaginary crickets in my head were going to drive me crazy, so I blurted the first question that came to mind.

"Why did you bring us here?" I didn't mean to sound rude or ungrateful, but it was a question that I wanted answered or else I wouldn't be comfortable.

"Does there really need to be a reason?" His eyes were burrowing into my skin. 

"You're not trying to make a fool of me, are you? Trying to show out for some friends?" I questioned

"Nope." He attested.

"You're not going to murder us, right? Take Aya away from me? Sell her to black marketers to be enslaved and exploited by some mafia group?!" I was interrogating him frantically. My eyes didn't separate from the cup in my hands, and the pressure I was putting upon it was sure to make it shatter at any moment.

"Do you want me to?" He tilted his head, sassing me.

"NO!" I spouted, realizing afterward how irrational I was being. 

"I told you before, didn't I?" He continued, "I knew that you were in need of a place to stay, and I just wanted to help you."

"You did but I-" A piercing scream coming from the room disturbed me; my body was no longer heavy or sore like it was moments ago, and I flew toward the room in panic. My heart throbbed in my chest, for my feet couldn't carry me to the room fast enough. I pleaded to the gods that she wasn't having a nightmare; she wouldn't sleep in days if that were the case. Maybe staying here was a bad idea and we had to leave as soon as possible, despite the rarity of Sean's act of kindness. I caught my breath immediately once I reached the room, and my jaw dropped at what was unfolding in front of me.

"What's wrong? What hap- You're kidding me!" I heard Sean yell from behind me, gripping his chest like he was faking a heart attack. My muscles loosened up and I laughed as loud as my lungs would permit me. It wasn't always that my worry was in vain.

"Daddy! Daddy! Daddy! Look! I have a puppy! Look at it!" Aya shrieked, running around the bed with a stuffed dog—the one I'd sent Sean to buy. Sam hopped along with her, making the moment that much more hilariously adorable. 

"You weren't messing around, were you?" He whispered in my ear, goosebumps breaking to the surface of my skin. I resisted the urge to shiver and nodded.

"Did you like it, Aya?" I asked, observing the answer; but I wanted to hear her say it.

"Yes! Yes yes yes yes yes! I love it, Daddy! I love it!" She squealed, clutching the cotton-filled puppy against her petite frame.

"I'm glad you did," I cooed, dropping to my knees and spreading my arms, beckoning Aya to come forth. She darted into my embrace, and I squeezed her the same way she was the stuffed animal. I kissed the top of her head and ruffled her hair before painfully standing up again.

"Are you hungry? Sean has pizza," I informed.

"Yay! Jack has pizza!" She interjected, prancing toward the kitchen. 

We heated our food and ate, mostly, in silence. Aya started blabbering about mundane things, and I tuned her out after a while; I still nodded and hummed, pretending to listen. I knew she would forget about what she was talking about and the 'problem' would be solved. 

I took the time to absorb the scene around me. Aya was delighted playing with Sam and her new toy, I hadn't seen her this merry in ages. Sean chuckled at the random things she would rant about, and the enormous house was no longer empty and devoid of life. Instead, it was packed with Aya's chiming and laughter that bounced off the walls in every direction. I could almost be content in a place like this, seeing how the colors of the house came to life as the waves of Aya's voice crashed onto them.

Time flew by as we sat in the living room, watching Aya have the time of her life. She rode on Sam's back and pretended he was a horse, like I remembered doing as a child. She played fetch with Sam until the poor creature was burned out; and soon enough, night had fallen upon us all. It was now time to go to sleep. Well, it was time for me to go to bed. I still couldn't sleep to save my life. I stared at Aya for a while, and she understood my gesture.

"Daddy, I'm not sleepy," she pouted. I could understand why though; she did sleep during the day, but she was going to bed whether she liked it or not.

"You have to go to sleep, Aya. It's bad for little girls to stay up late. You know that," I spoke softly, not going for the authoritarian parent voice people wanted to hear from a father.

"I'm not little anymore! I'm big!" She retorted, locking her hands on her hips.

"Even big girls need to sleep, Aya," I rebutted, holding out my hand. She reluctantly put down her hands and scraped her feet against the floor as she approached me. She took my hand without any further questions and let me accompany her to bed. 

"I'll sing you a song if you stop pouting," I offered, happiness being the only sort of expression I thought fitting for a child as bright as her. 

"Really? Even if you sang to me yesterday?" Her eyes glowed, incredulous of my proposition.

"Yep, even if I sang to you yesterday," I pinched her cheek, letting go of her hand as we crossed the doorway. She dashed for the bed and waited impatiently for me to lift her. The satisfaction of knowing that I was needed  by her was enough to keep me alive. I didn't make her wait long; however, I didn't race to her side either. 

I did the standard and tucked Aya in at the very center of the bed. It was big enough for me to lay comfortably on either side of her without having to move or agitate her. It was to be expected from a king sized bed, yet it still blew my mind that there were beds made at such a scale.

Aya gave me the same look she gave me at the park, and I gave her what she wanted. The difference here was that I was extremely aware of Sean's presence in the room. Needless to say, my voice was shaky and sure did take a toll from all of the pressure. Aya was still lulled by my singing, regardless of how awful I deemed my performance. That alone satiated my inner motherly instincts. 

"You have a beautiful voice," Sean opined from within the shadows of the room.

"It's so soothing and velvety. I thought I was going to fall asleep right here," he continued, chuckling a little at what I assumed was the thought of himself falling asleep while standing.

"Thank you," I muttered, still a little disappointed by my lack of discipline, but I accepted his comment nonetheless.

"Were you always musically inclined?" He wondered. 

"I was in band during high school," I affirmed, although it had almost nothing to do with my vocal gift.

These small pieces of meaningless chatter merged into a full-blown conversation; the wall I had up was in need of reinforcing, for I could feel his curious gaze from outside of it. Perhaps he wasn't hiding behind anything and my wall was sturdy. Maybe the only fault was in it was how transparent the barrier truly was. I was easier to read than a children's book, and figuring me out didn't require vast amounts of intellect. 

"Why did you leave to begin with?" The question finally reappeared, testing my strength.

"A father has to do what a father has to do for the sake of his children," I solemnly croaked, not elaborating on the point for various reasons.

"I guess," he paused to yawn, "that makes sense." 

"Things don't always have to make sense, Sean," I felt all philosophical about life in the midst of my mental consumption. Sean glanced into my eyes, probably trying to figure out if I was high or something of the sort; that was the only reason I thought concorded with the situation. 

"But damn is it awesome when they do, huh?" He snickered, yawning again but not showing signs of wanting to go to sleep.

"You look tired," I pointed out. 

"You look dead," he countered.

"Are you tired, Mark?" He leaned forward like characters did in detective films.

"Yes," I admitted, playing with my thumbs. 

"Why don't you go to sleep, then, huh?" He counselled, knowing nothing of my state of being.

"I'm that kind of tired that makes you restless," I sighed, reading into the lines of the palms of my hands. I couldn't believe how facilitated expressing myself was in front of Sean. He could tell me he was a psychologist, and I wouldn't question him. Then again, he could tell me anything about himself and I wouldn't question it.

"Oh, I get it," he nodded, standing from the chair and stretching his arms.

"I hope you can sleep. . .eventually." He spoke, walking in the opposite direction of the room Aya was sleeping in.

"Maybe," I whispered, "eventually."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Leave me your comments and kudos to keep me alive! I love you!
> 
> Again, I love you!
> 
> ~Reina Kalopsia


	6. Denial and Bargaining

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally! I have an update for you all!!! I'm so happy to have something to share with you all; thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoy!!!

The night wasn't anymore merciful with me than before; I took out a notebook I had in my bag and began to doodle around the stanzas of poetry I'd composed previously. It was all I did during the night besides contemplate Aya's features. She was such a precious gift in my life, but I couldn't deny the hardships that accompanied her existence. 

I could remember so clearly how Lauren grimaced upon seeing Aya for the first time. Witnessing my features plastered all over the child that fed off of her for months must have disgusted her; but I was so delighted to hold my newborn baby that I couldn't process her feelings, much less taking them under consideration. 

'I should have tended to her more,' I thought, recalling all the instances in which I had failed her. One night, I reached to hold her hand only for her to get out of bed and stomp to the living room. The cold, empty mattress was bearing the weight of my guilt; I was curled up next to the indention her body had formed into the bed. I could feel the way the heat of her body deteriorated into nothingness; I remember how desperately I tried to keep her spot warm at the expense of my comfort, but I only blamed myself for the ever-growing distance between us. I was a horrible boyfriend. I was a horrible person.

I allowed my tears to do as they pleased as I dug my face into one of the many pillows on the bed. I, again, questioned my motives for leaving the relative safety of what I'd called home. Although I knew that my decision was the correct one, I couldn't shoo away the part of me that was dubious of my every action—the part of me that wanted to latch onto an unstable lifeline.

'What if I go back and everything is okay?' I pondered, 'maybe I was being over dramatic, and I can go home and everything is hunky-dory!' I was trying to convince myself of something that was utterly false. This wasn't a fluke, and it wasn't a joke. I had to leave. I had to, but my mind couldn't accept the concept that I legitimately did it. I left alongside my daughter.

'Stop it, Mark! You need to stop! Stop thinking about it! Stop thinking about her!' I reprimanded myself yet again.

I restlessly crawled out of bed, for it started searing me no matter in what position I laid in. I hadn't noticed the soft rays of gold that seeped into the material of the curtains, allowing the crack of dawn to glow across the room. They set my skin ablaze; I had grown so used to the cold, gray walls—so dull and emotionless in nature. The room radiated warmth, so much so that I was compelled to check on Aya to make sure she wasn't burning to her death from a fever. Though it was one of the most comforting and welcoming feelings I'd felt in years, my mind fully rejected the foreign sensation—the seemingly unnecessary aid that enveloped me.

I had to do something, anything but write or doodle or lay around. I had to physically go and engage in some random activity. I wanted to know what time it was—that was my excuse to leave the room. I tiptoed to the door, my movements thundering in the silence. I shakily took hold of the doorknob and inhaled deeply before twisting it. I pulled the door back half way, the hinges shrieking like a banshee. I held my breath, afraid that an extra decibel would awaken Aya. I clenched my jaw and finished opening the door; I crept through the doorway, easily shutting the door behind me silently.

I looked around in an effort to remember my location in this dinosaur of a house. Seconds later, my memories guided me to the kitchen. There was a clock above the refrigerator that I hadn't noticed—6:03, it read, fairly early. From the lack of anything better to do came the idea to cook breakfast. I always made Aya breakfast when we lived with Lauren; she seemed to enjoy my cooking. Lauren, on the other hand, always told me that it didn't have enough salt. Everything was bland and boring to her; so she ate out with her friends most nights, leaving Aya and I alone at home until she felt the need to return.

'You'll never forget her. She's a part you. She's a part of Aya,' resignation set in. I'd be sentenced to an eternity filled with memories of Lauren. Would that be a blessing or a curse? She loves me, after all, right? She's just tired most days, and I'm just annoying her. That's it! It's just all my fault!

'No, Mark!' I slammed my head against the counter. Why was it so hard for me to believe that Lauren's love was now hollow and bitter? I just wanted to build that loving family Aya deserved—that we all deserved. However, I didn't have the balls to communicate with Lauren about the dying flame, she was disappointed enough in me. My complaints would more than likely be counterproductive. 

I dragged my hands down my face, shaking my head vigorously. I just wanted to make something to eat, not waste time crying the daylights out of myself. Pancakes are easy to make, and their ingredients were basic as well. I scavenged around the kitchen, hunting down things like eggs, flour, butter and vanilla extract. After I gathered all the ingredients, I went on yet another hunt, trying to find utensils. Cooking in a stranger's kitchen is one of the most underestimated challenges I'd faced.

Once I found all of the items necessary, everything went by like a breeze. I was so preoccupied trying to make a perfect pancake that I couldn't think about my troubles outside the kitchen. I gazed over at the clock, curious as to how long it had been since I last checked—7:41. My eyes widened and my jaw dropped upon seeing how long it took me to get all this together. I shrugged it off, knowing that more than half of that time was spent trying to familiarize myself with Sean's kitchen. He did, after all, have a lot of random things in his fridge.

"Smells like a morning in heaven," Sean's voice boomed throughout the halls. I flinched, gritting my teeth.

"Shhhhhh!" I waved my index finger at him, commanding him to be quiet.

"Oh, I thought Aya would be stapled onto you," he chuckled.

"Well, she's not. She's asleep and I'd rather it stay that way. Please and thank you," I countered, setting a plate of pancakes on any given place on the table.

"No syrup?" He tilted his head in disbelief.

"I couldn't find it," I responded truthfully, tensing up as I began pouring more batter into the skillet.

"You seemed to have luck finding everything else, that's good," he slid out of his chair. He opened a cabinet that I hadn't bothered to check and pulled out the syrup. As he passed behind me, my muscles locked in place.

"Mark, are you okay?" He inquired. He placed his hand on my shoulder in an attempt to make me relax; however, he had no idea the turmoil he was causing with a single gesture.

"Please, stop."

"What?" His eyebrows furrowed as he leaned his ear closer to me. 

"Don't. Touch. Me." I growled, mock anger trying to mask the bone-chilling fear that was coursing through me.

"You bully!" I heard the infuriated scream of my baby as she ran to me, trying to push Sean away from me with her limited strength; Sean's hand reflexively flew off of my shoulder, and Aya's tiny arm was raised above her head like she was going to smack Sean.

"No, no, no," I crouched, hugging her to me and patting her head. "Sean wasn't trying to hurt me," I uttered to both Aya and my subconscious self.

"Really?" She widened her eyes, imploring me to tell her the truth.

"Yes, Baby. He didn't mean any harm," I caressed her cheeks, giving her one of those obligatory smiles I had to muster as a parent.

"Okay!" She grinned, running to plop herself in a seat at the table. I gazed in Sean's direction, looking for a sign of distress or regret. On the contrary, I saw nothing but his pearly white teeth reflecting the light of the sun; his smile was so bright I thought I was going to go blind. 

"I love Daddy's pancakes!" Aya yelled before stuffing her mouth full. 

"I like your Daddy's pancakes too," Sean smiled. 

"Now that I think of it," he added, staring at the now empty plate in front of him, "I haven't had a decent meal in a long time." I knew what that felt like all too well, but probably not for the same reasons as Sean. I just didn't want to eat; I didn't want to take a bite and fell the same as Lauren—that everything was bland. Pity was bubbling to the surface of my mind until an idea took its place.

"You let us stay in your house, right?" I stated the obvious, "How about I cook and clean around here, in exchange for the hospitality?" I proposed.

"Nah, you don't have to," he tried shrugging me off, but I wasn't having it.

"I don't think you understand, Sean," I continued, "I cannot simply come in here and do nothing. I understand that it was your choice to have us here; and though I may not show it, I'm extremely grateful for your kindness; but I also want you to take under consideration that I don't want to be a burden for you to carry. I am a human with arms and legs a reason to use them."

"But-"

"You're not getting it, Sean!" I interrupted.

"If I don't do this, I cannot possibly be comfortable staying here. To be completely honest with you, I would rather live on the streets knowing that I'm trying rather than sitting on my ass all damn day doing nothing," I turned to look at Aya before I went on with my rant.

"What kind of example can I set for my daughter if I just stand here and take things from a stranger?" I stared him. Determination that I'd never felt before oozed throughout my oration. My words definitely made an impact on Sean. He cast his eyes to the floor, pondering carefully what he wanted to do. It intrigued me how invested he was in both Aya and me. He raised his head, alternating his focus between Aya and myself. Was this decision that hard to make? He took a deep breath before sighing, resting his forehead on his hands.

"Mark, you...," he trailed off, most likely trying to find the words to say, "sure, Mark. I accept your offer. You can do what you see fit." I couldn't hold back the smile that stretched across my face.

"On one condition," Sean added, my smile fading. 

"Those pancakes are going to be here every morning—without fail!" He smirked, relishing in my reaction.

"Sure thing, Sir," I answered, laughing when I noticed Sean's face turning red.

"Yay! Pancakes everyday!" Aya cheered, hugging my leg.

"Yea, we have a place to stay too," I whispered, satisfied knowing that I didn't have to find another place to go.

For now, that is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Send me your comments and kudos to keep me alive! Thank you so so so much for reading! I wonder if anyone reads these. Anyway, I uploaded this story onto my Wattpad account (Kalopsiaphrenia) and literally, only one person read it. That was slightly discouraging, honestly. 
> 
> I warn you that most of my stories consist of children...so if you don't like kids you've been warned! (If you don't like kids, why are you even reading this?!)
> 
> Sorry for the rant peeps! I love you!!!!
> 
> ~Kalopsia


	7. Picture Imperfect

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look who's late to the party! ME!!! Writer's block can be a real bitch, but here I am! Finally! With a new chapter! As always, I hope you all enjoy! (By the way, it's 1:19 a.m. right now...so sorry for the dog-shit editing...I'll get to that someday!)

We were watching TV; everyone was bored out of their mind but didn't have enough willpower to actually voice it. I was surprised by Sean's presence; I thought he had a job or somewhere to go at this hour. I didn't want to sound ungrateful for his company though—or make him think that I wanted him to leave. If anything, I'd be lonely with only Aya and myself here.

"What do you do for work, Jack?" Aya inquired—looks like I wasn't the only one curious. 

"I take pictures!" He cheered enthusiastically, making Aya giggle.

"That means he's a photographer," I added, seeing an opportunity to teach Aya a new word.

"Can I see some of your pictures?!" She begged, pouting her lips and making irresistible little doe eyes.

"Sure! I'll go get my portfolio. I'll be right back," Sean leaped off the couch and ran in the direction of what I assumed to be his room or studio, if he had one.

"Daddy, what's a portfolio? Isn't that when you can bring things?" Aya furrowed her brows.

"Bring things?" I repeated, and Aya nodded in confirmation.

"Like...um...like...like momma's computer!" She exclaimed. I lowered my head, instantly crushed by the thought of Lauren. Her laptop was one of her best friends; it was the only one I liked too.

"Daddy!" Aya groaned impatiently.

"You mean 'portable', not portfolio," I corrected. For once, I was glad that Aya's voice was so loud.

"Oh," she cocked her head to the side, " then what's a portfolio?" She continued.

"It's like a photo album where you put your best pictures so you can show them to people," I explained as simply as I could.

"Oh, do you have a portfolio, Daddy?" She questioned.

"No, I don't. I can't even take good pictures to save my life, Hun." I admitted.

"That's sad!" Sean's voice bounced off the walls, piercing my eardrums. I'd have to agree with him though. There were so many moments and things that I would have loved to photograph; one of them was Aya's eyes when she was a baby. The awe that overtook me when I saw them was indescribable; her left eye was a crystal gray, contrasting greatly with her obsidian right one. The peace that circulated alongside the oxygen in my blood was something I assumed only a parent could understand, but I was wrong.

"Let me see your pictures!" Aya excitedly commanded, extending her arms for Sean to hand her the portfolio.

"Okay, okay! Here ya go," Sean chuckled as he gave up his book of picture to her.

"Be very careful, Aya," I warned. It wouldn't be the first time that she accidentally tears something up, but these were probably really important to Sean. 

Aya nodded and opened the portfolio slowly. I looked over her shoulder, taking in the various pieces of art set in front of me. Most, of the pictures were monochromatic; all of them were of people. I stared into their eyes, amazed by the small connections I could make with their photographs. I was able to imagine entire stories encompassing these individuals, or at least what they were feeling while having their picture taken. Some of the pictures screamed happiness while others reflected indifference. The variety of emotions that were portrayed made me realized how dull of a human being I had become.

"I'm assuming that photographing people is your speciality?" I urged myself to ask.

"I guess you can say that," he shrugged.

"There's just something about raw human emotion that enthralls me," he continued, "however, capturing such a thing is hard. You have to catch the person off guard in order to get the best results. I guess you could say that speed is key here."

"Which picture's your favorite?" Aya wondered out loud, earning a grin from Sean.

"I'm glad you asked, but I can't show it to you just yet. I'm sorry," he apologized.

"Why not?!" Aya whined.

"It's a work in progress, but I'll show it to you once I'm finished, okay?" Sean promised her.

"Okay!" She agreed, shifting her attention to the rest of the photos. 

"Did you have a job, Mark?" Sean suddenly asked.

"No," I replied laconically.

"Was there something that you wanted to do? Anything?" He insisted. I was hesitant towards answering, for I thought that I was taking the question too personally, but he shared part of his passions with me, so I felt obligated to return the gesture.

"I wanted to be an engineer," I finally mumbled.

"Wow, you must be pretty smart," he pointed out.

"Not really, no," I shook my head, " I was simply a human with a dream."

"With a dream of driving trains, Daddy?" Aya stared at me awkwardly. I laughed at how silly both Aya's answer and my dream were; it was surely worthy of a twist of humor.

"No, Aya," I corrected once I had gained composure. I rubbed the tears that had formed from my laughter; a heavy fog suddenly enveloped the entirety of my being. Holes were being drilled into my skull by none other than Sean's diamond eyes. Seeing no humor in my outburst, he disapprovingly stared. 

I was an emotional wreck. I wanted to bolt into the room and weep until I died of dehydration. Aya slammed the portfolio shut, saying nothing. The silence was agonizingly painful. As every second passed, I could feel the holes in my skin grow deeper. I feared that if he looked at me any longer he would see my mistakes, or discover what was in the chambers of my mind, or crack into the very essence of my soul. My jaw trembled. My legs quaked. My heart raced. I was weak.

"Now what do we do?" Aya tore into the tension of the room, temporarily putting it at bay, giving me time to repair the walls Sean was trying to drill through. 

"Are you down to go out, Mark?" Sean leaned over, holding my eyes to his. He must have not been satisfied with the seconds that seemed like an eternity to me. He probably didn't want me to mess with what would be considered progress to him. Too bad I was a hypersensitive fiasco.

"I heard from a friend that there's a summer fest going on this week. We can go chill over there. I don't have work today, as you can see," he added. 

"Yes, yes, yes! Daddy, can we go? Daddy! Please please pleeeeease!" Aya rambled, barely able to control her excitement. Who was I to ruin her fun other than her father? We'd never been to a fair or anything like one, so I figured that it wouldn't hurt, but that was just the excuse I was giving myself. I just longed for distractions.

"Okay," I agreed, standing up to stretch my slightly sore body.

"Yaaaay!" Aya chirped, running in circles. Sam must have thought it was a game; for he rushed over to Aya and barked, wagging his tail as he chased her. 

"I'm sorry Sam," Sean sat on the floor, the dog trotting toward him, "I can't bring you with us."

"Awww...but he's gonna be so lonely," Aya protested.

"Rules are rules, Baby," I waved her over to me, signaling her to sit beside me. 

"Let me do your hair so we can go." I dismantled the knots of hair that formed over her messy ponytail, and combed through them gently with my fingers. I slicked her hair back smoothly, and twirled her hair to make a bun. 

"Why weren't you a hair stylist, Mark? You did that in a blink of an eye!" Sean burst.

"It's not something I would have seen myself doing," I shrugged.

"Wow, but you do it so effortlessly," he complimented.

"As a parent, you learn to do things out of love for your children," I paused and smiled before continuing, "this is one of those things that would feel unnatural to me if I did it to anyone else."

"I see," Sean nodded, not even making an effort to hide the grin on his face.

"You're so corny." He chuckled, getting on his feet and grabbing his phone from the center table.

"Let's go!" Aya chimed, holding my hand and marching alongside me. Sean scampered around the corners, yelling something I couldn't understand due to how far he had traveled. I stood motionless, holding Aya's hand, wondering what it could have been that he was yelling. It wasn't anything too important, but it still bothered me that I didn't know what he he said. A few minutes later, Sean emerged from the corner he had disappeared into, holding up a chain full of keys.

"We're definitely not going walking. It's almost on the other side of LA!" Sean informed us. I breathed a sigh of relief, glad that my muscles could rest a little more before going back into overdrive.

"Okay," I agreed, following behind Sean to an unknown area of the house. It had just crossed my mind that I hadn't seen his car or cars, judging by the myriad of keys he had. We made it to the garage and, sure enough, there was more than one car—three, to be exact.

"I'm actually surprised that there aren't ten in here. It's mostly vacant," I mumbled, observing the amount of empty space. 

"You have so many keys too," I added.

"Oh, these are just my favorites," he smirked, slightly puffing out his chest. I rolled eyes as the a rich kid vibe made its way to me. Aya, on the other hand, was beyond excited. 

"We get to be in one of these?!" She questioned incredulously.

"Yup. Why don't you choose one, Aya?" He stepped aside, inviting Aya to look at the cars even closer. She, obviously, knew nothing about cars; so she based her choice off the color alone.

"Look, Daddy! This one's red like your hair!" She cheered, running towards the vehicle.

"You wanna go in that one?" Sean asked while staring directly at my face. He seemed to be studying even the smallest of details of my face. Maybe he was waiting for a reaction, or perhaps he was trying to make sure I wouldn't suddenly roundhouse kick him in the nuts and leave. I really wanted to though, but no one would know that.

'Be nice,' I thought, 'He simply wants to make sure we're entertained, maybe even get to know us a little bit. Yea, that must be it.'

"Earth to Mark!" Sean snapped is fingers in my face. I wanted to bite them off. I wasn't sure what was happening to me today; I was simply all over the emotion spectrum. I was so used to feeling nothing but fear and disappointment that my mind must have forgotten how to properly handle the other emotions. 

"I-I'm sorry, what?" I stuttered.

"I said, is there anything you could have forgotten or want to do before we leave like go to the restroom," he enunciated.

"Yea, let me go to the restroom really quickly. Aya c'mon," I clamped her tiny hand and dragged her alongside me.

"Don't be long!" Sean yelled after us.

"But Daddy, I don't need to go," Aya whined.

"I know you don't," I paused, crouching next to Aya, pulling closer to me.

"I don't want you running off on me like you did last time," I whispered, not wanting to alert Sean.

"But Jack's with us," she rebutted.

"I don't care if Jesus himself is with us, please, please, don't run far from me," I held her head so she could look straight into my eyes.

"It makes Daddy feel really really scared when you aren't beside him, okay," I finished, waiting for her to say something. Instead, she avoided making anymore eye contact with me. Her eyes were glued to the floor, and her breath became uneven.

"D-does M-mommy feel s-s-scared when we're n-not there?" I froze. All of my thoughts were swiped clean. I was an empty shell with no clear answers to soothe my crying child.

"I don't know, Aya," I replied truthfully, patting her back as she continued crying.

"W-w-will she-e eve-r get bet-ter?" I rolled my eyes, fighting back the urge to cry with her.

"I wish I knew, Princess," I muttered as I picked her up and made my way to the bathroom.

"But you know what? We're going to go and play lots of games and give mommy time to get better while we stay with Jack, okay?" I rambled, faking the best smile I could. Aya nodded and rubbed her eyes.

"Let's clean that face of yours," I thought out loud once we were in front of the sink. I sat her down on the counter and washed my hands before splashing some water on her face, causing her to giggle.

"Are you guys coming or not?" Jack hollered. Aya and I made mock surprised faces at each other, laughing at how silly we looked.

"We're coming!" I announced, and Aya marched beside me—acting as my little guardian as much as I was trying to be hers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading and leaving comments! Please leave me more of your feedback, comments, kudos, whatever to let me know how much you all are or are not enjoying this! I will see you in the next chapter! I love you!!!
> 
> ~Kalopsia


	8. Something Green

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't kill me, okay! I'm so sorry I didn't update sooner! I hope this chapter isn't complete bullshit. I love you guys so much! I hope you enjoy!!!

"I spy, with my little eye, something that is...red!" Aya repeated for the third time.

"A...stop sign!" I blurted, knowing what the answer was always going to be.

"No, Daddy," she giggled mockingly.

"Mark's hair!" Sean pretended to guess. He probably knew the answer too.

"Yea! Daddy, it was your hair!" She clapped, not getting over my flaming locks.

"It's your turn now, Jack!" She grinned, kicking the air in front of her. I refused to ride in the passenger's seat beside Sean, not feeling safe or comfortable about Aya not being in a car seat. She had her seatbelt on, but she was fidgeting in an attempt to avoid the shoulder belt that was pressing awkwardly against her neck. Her hands were soon pushing the belt, slightly relieving her. However, I was growing paranoid that cops would look over at us and see only the top of Aya's head; they would give Sean a pretty hefty fine.

"I spy, with my little eye, something that is blue," Sean continued, unaffected by the dangers he was facing by driving with an improperly secured child. If I knew how to drive, that would terrify me.

"The ocean!" Aya hollered.

"Nope!" He enunciated.

"We can't see the ocean right now, silly girl," I corrected.

"Okay, um, the sky!"

"Yea, you got it right!" He chirped, honking the car horn in a celebratory fashion.

"Are we there yet?" Aya's smile fell into a pit of boredom.

"It's alright, Aya. There's no need to be impatient. The rides aren't going anywhere soon," I affirmed.

"Actually, we're here," Sean pointed at the person wearing a fluorescent orange vest. We parked in an empty strip of land, surrounded by a myriad of different vehicles. Aya immediately unbuckled her seatbelt, throwing it off of her, making the buckle collide harshly against the window. 

"Be careful!" I nagged reflexively as I slowly opened the door of the car. It was a tight fit, but I managed to slide out of the car without hitting the neighboring one. I couldn't help but notice how flashy Sean's car was; from the crowd of different cars and other vehicles, Sean's was like a sore thumb. Now that I thought of it, I didn't see any rides, games, or anything but cars. I turned to glare at Jack, under the impression that he had driven us into a glorified junk yard.

"You'll see," he smirked, walking away amidst the maze of vehicles. Aya clasped my hand and dragged me along, trying to match Sean's pace. The more we walked, the more I was convinced that we were trotting along an empty piece of land. I started to relax once I spotted another family walking in the same direction we were. I started to question the size of the rides as well. Were these things all going to be small? The other family wasn't with a child; they'll probably going to get bored rather quickly.

Before I knew it, we were in a line filled with people. I could only spot a hand full of children, and rides that were too small for teenagers to ride. My heart suddenly sank into the bottom of chest; I didn't bring any money, and Sean was going to pay for the three of us.

"Sean, wait," I latched onto his arm, pulling him abruptly towards me.

"Hey, if you wanted us to walk together, you could have just said so," he chuckled, raising his eyebrows suggestively. 

"Don't be ridiculous! I have to talk to you," I hissed through my teeth. I let Aya go in front of us and watched as Sean's expression morphed into that of confusion. 

"Is there something wrong?" He asked.

"No-I mean...yes. Okay, look!" It took me a while for my thoughts to come together.

"I promise that I'll pay you for absolutely everything once we get back to your house," I muttered, my eyes were glued onto the floor, shame setting inside of me. I was about to say something else before Sean burst into laughter, causing me to flinch. I furrowed my brows, the tension nearly giving me a headache.

"You're kidding me, right?" His nerves unwind as the last fits of laughter coursed through him. All I could do is stare at him and wish that I could be as half as carefree as he was. 

"Take this as my treat. Doing the chores will be your form of paying me back," he asserted, brushing away my troubles.

The line moved rapidly, the polar opposite of what I was expecting. Sean bought a bracelet for the three of us, and we were stamped with the image of a dolphin. I found it slightly amusing, for the drawing looked like it belonged in an aquarium as opposed to a fair. I wasn't going to giggle too much though, I'd draw some unwanted attention to myself. Aya was thoroughly delighted, excitement nearly popping out of her widened eyes. 

Behind some beverage stands, the true chaos began-for me, anyway. Groups of children migrated from one source of entertainment to the next, leaving their parents in the dust. I clamped onto Aya's hand, giving her one of those parental looks that left messages clearer than words ever could. She gave me a toothy grin, pointing in the direction of a carousel. 

"Can we go on that one, Daddy?" She hopped in place, her legs yearning to sprint in the direction of the carousel. 

"Let's go," I affirmed, jogging beside her to get in line. Luckily, the people who were there beforehand were on their way down, leaving an empty ride behind them. 

"You go ahead, I'll watch from here," I offered upon seeing a sign that prohibited parents from passing.

"Okay!" Aya agreed. The man in control of the carousel walked her to the ride of her choice and told her what I assumed were basic instructions. Once it started, the typical parent-child moment took place. She never missed a single opportunity to wave at me, and I didn't miss one to blow her kisses. I began to think about how my parents would do the same to me when I was younger; and for the first time in years, a happy sense of nostalgia brought a tiny smile to my face. 

"You two must have been pulled from a movie or something," Sean spoke from close behind me. I had, honestly, forgotten that he was the one who brought us here. Aya has always been my priority, so it didn't surprise me. I guess I was also expecting him to go somewhere else and have some fun instead of being accompanying me on my parent watch. 

"Why do you say that?" 

"You fit the perfect mother figure archetype. No offense," he smirked, clearly trying to hold in his laughter.

"None taken," replied. There was nothing to be offended about. For Aya, I would be both the best mother and the best father. The best aunt and the best uncle. The best guardian and the best friend. 

"And Aya is the innocent," he murmured near inaudibly. I bit the inside of my cheek until I tasted blood. The flashbacks of living with Lauren harassing my memories. Aya could look innocent, but the amount of situations she has been exposed too is enough to tarnish a child. Maybe I was wrong, and her innocence has served as her greatest shield. I wouldn't doubt her intelligence for a second, however. Children let on more than what meets the eye. 

"She really is," I whispered as the carousel stopped spinning and Aya bolted toward me. 

"Why didn't you wave back at me?" Aya complained. I held her hand again and smiled soothingly. 

"I'm sorry, Honey. I was talking to Jack. Do you forgive me?" I fake pouted, opening my eyes as wide as I could. 

"Okay, I forgive you, Daddy!" She chimed. 

"Let's go to another ride," I suggested pointing to a sign that read "pirate ship."

"Yay!" She exclaimed, and I sped behind her as she ran. 

I think Aya went onto every ride she was allowed to. Her lithe frame was bound to collapse from all the running, but she wasn't breaking a sweat. I probably drank four bottles of water, each one costing me a little more embarrassment than the last. Thankfully, Sean didn't push on the subject of archetypes and decided to talk about his time in Ireland. I thought it was charming how passionately he spoke about his home country. One could say that he was rambling, for I only offered my opinion occasionally, but he didn't mind in the least. All the contrary, the more I let him talk, the more energetic he became. His ability to carry a conversation on his own was impressive and relaxing at the same time. He was obviously a socialite, but that was evident from the get go. 

We were sitting silently at a bench watching the exhausted children whine as their parents carried them away. Aya, on the other hand, was high on life. She impatiently jumped out of the bench and proceeded to run laps around us. I soaked in the rays of the sunset as the day was slipping into the night. The warmth of the sun mixed with Aya's laughter was everything that I lived for. 

"I had fun today," Sean proclaimed, stretching his arms as if he wanted to grab a cloud from the sky. 

"Really?" I questioned, not completely believing that he could have a blast by watching the interactions between a father and his daughter. Then again, he liked photography because it brought him closer to 'raw' human emotion; so I could be wrong. 

"Of course! Why wouldn't I?" He asked. 

"Maybe because you could have gone to the bigger rides that are down the hill and actually 'have fun.'" I retorted. 

"Talking to you was great!" He argued back, leaning closer to me.

"You are a really nice person, Mark. Even though you don't talk much, your gestures and your facial expressions say more about you than everything else. You're dedicated. You're kind. You're compassionate. You're real! You're the best friend anyone could ever ask for, Mark! And you're the most outstanding parent I've ever known! Why do you belittle yourself so much?" He continued, not measuring the capacity of his words before they flowed out of his mouth. 

"I don't know," I answered as quietly as possible, refusing to let Sean's rant sink in. Now was not the time for waterworks. 

"Daddy, can I get cotton candy from that lady over there?" Aya cut through the tension. 

"No, Baby. Not today. You won't be able to sleep if you eat too much sugar," I pointed out, much to Aya's disappointment. 

"But Daddy!" She pouted, completely disillusioned with my decision. 

"I said no, Aya," I retorted sternly. 

"Here you go," Sean interrupted, handing her a dollar bill. My eyebrows furrowed and my jaw dropped; flashes of anger burned within me, and disappointment clutched my heart. 

"Okay!" Aya took the money and ran before I could say anything. I clenched my fists, keeping my arms in place. This was exactly the kind of thing I was hoping to avoid. Again, my voice was being nullified by the voice of others stronger than I. I knew that this was something small, but everything starts out that way. I knew that all too well. 

After Aya finished eating her cotton candy, we all grew fond of the idea of going home. I didn't make a sound the entire way to Sean's house. Aya sang at the top her lungs, moving her shoulders to the rhythm of whatever she was singing. I could feel myself sink into the passenger's seat while I continued sulking over my lack of courage. 

'It's just cotton candy, Mark. Chill the fuck down,' I imagined Sean reprimanding me. 

Once we arrived, Aya's first order of business was to check up on Sam, who was in the backyard. Sean and I, however, stayed inside and sat in the living room.

"Mark, you're not mad at me are you?" He asked shyly, trying to convince me to look into his eyes. I didn't respond. I simply sat there, pondering on whether or not I should express my feelings.

"Mark? C'mon we were having such a good time," he insisted. I took a deep breath, trying to relax my muscles and go through the motions calmly. 

"Mark?" He continued. 

"Can I ask you for a favor?" I started. 

"Mark, it was just-"

"I said, can I ask you for a favor?" I reiterated. 

"Yes, but-"

"Good," I interrupted again.

"I know that your intentions are the best, and you're not trying to be an asshole, but I'm going to ask you nicely to please let me raise my child," I declared, still mentally gathering the strength to stand my ground. 

"I just wanted her to have some cotton candy. Is that wrong?" He retorted. 

"Yes, yes it is. Especially when I previously said no. It's something you don't understand. It's called being a parent. You do what you can to protect your kid, sure; but above all, you love your child! Loving your child does not mean that you give your child what they want and whenever they want it. It means that you'll do what's in your power to make them a decent human being in the long run, and you giving in to her is not helping." I paused to take a few breaths. 

"Not to mention that she gets cavities very easily, but I can't tell her that because she associates the word 'cavity' with 'dentist.' Then, she'll cry until her eyes fall out." I mumbled. My legs were shaking, the heat of my anger completely gone, and the consequence of my ramble were soon to come. The silence was going to drive me insane until Sean began to speak.

"Wow, I never thought of it that way," he admitted. 

"So...can I raise my child?" I asked, substantially less upset. 

"Of course you can, Mark," he chuckled. 

"R-really?" I choked out. Disbelief knotting my throat.

"Mark, yes!" He reassured me, yet again. In that moment, the future that I dreamed of came to life. I could make my child a model citizen. We could live in a beyond suitable home; and even though I still couldn't sleep, our life was going to be more promising as it has ever could be beside Lauren.

"Thank you...Jack."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to leave your comments and kudos! Thank you so much for reading; and hopefully, I'll see you soon!


	9. Through Him

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I shall bestow upon you a gift as an apology for my tardiness on the last update! Not to mention that I couldn't wait to share this with you! I hope you all like it!!!

The routine was to begin again; I rose from my an unsuccessful attempt to sleep, dragging my withering body into the kitchen. I'd bought the ingredients to make red velvet pancakes the day before, knowing that eating the same thing everyday would eventually become disgusting. I familiarized myself with every nook and cranny of this mansion, including Jack's room. I was hesitant to enter it at first, but he convinced me that there was nothing wrong with it, and he insisted that I was a person he blindly trusted. To say that I was honored would be an understatement. 

I was always received with a pinch of guilt every time he said that, however. I hadn't opened up to him about the many troubles that haunted both Aya and me. I thought that would be the first thing he would have strived to choke out of me; if anything, he was avoiding that subject all together. I began to wonder if he was waiting for me to speak up first; but if that was the case, only insane would I ever bring up the subject.

Aya was the most joyous child I'd seen in the entire universe. Her smile shined brighter than any star in the galaxy. Her inner and outer capacities seemed to have expanded tremendously as well. Teaching her simple things like the alphabet proved to be extremely difficult when we lived with Lauren. Now she was fascinated with every letter, and could identify the letter before or after any given one. She could also spell her name, but that wasn't too challenging; her first name only consisted of three letters, after all. I would teach her to write her middle and last name later.

The pancakes were coming out great; the smell of cake filled the kitchen, soothing my rigid figure. After I wrapped the pancakes in aluminum foil, I began to make the cream cheese spread to accompany them. I went out on a whim and came to the conclusion that maple syrup wasn't the best choice for this particular recipe. I glanced at the clock expectantly, knowing what was to come.

"Good morning, Sunshine!" Jack hollered from across the hall. I rolled my eyes and waited for him to enter the kitchen. 

"How many times do I have to tell you not to yell? You'll wake up Aya," I nagged, the words leaving me almost subconsciously. 

"Wow, you're not gonna complain because I called you sunshine today?" He questioned, plopping himself into a random chair. 

"You won't listen to me anyway. What's the point in me telling you?" I replied, setting the batch of pancakes in front of him along with the spread. 

"You tell me to stop yelling in the morning everyday," he countered.

"That's because my daughter's sleep matters more than your bogus nicknames," I stated. I poured both Jack and I a mug of coffee and brought them to the table. 

"Ouch! You're so cold, Mark," he pouted. 

"I've been called worse," I chuckled. 

"Daddy!" A high pitched scream resonated throughout the house. I sighed, jogging away and into the room.

"I'm right here, baby. What is it?" I asked as tenderly as I could.

"Where's Luna?" She sniffled, throwing the sheets around in search for her stuffed dog. 

"It's right here," I pointed out as I ducked to retrieve the toy.

"Yay! Thanks Daddy!" Aya squealed, hugging the plushy to death. 

"Let's go eat, baby. I made red velvet pancakes."

"I don't like those," she whined.

"You've never tried them. C'mon," I commanded, swooping her into my arms, carrying her out of the room. 

"Hey there, little girl!" Jack burst upon seeing us. 

"I don't wanna eat this!" Aya murmured, crossing her arms. 

"I didn't ask you if you wanted to. I said you're going to eat," I retorted.

"Jack! I don't wanna!" She desperately sought assistance. 

"It's okay. That means there's more DELICIOUS and YUMMY pancakes for ME!" he exaggerated, seeking a reaction from Aya, which he received. 

"No! They're mine!" she argued. If this interaction didn't prove that Aya wasn't a morning person, I didn't know what did.

"Here's a little one for you," I put a small plate in front of her with an iced pancake. Like many other things, she ended up adoring the dish served to her. 

After eating, I merrily pranced over to the sink, washing the dishes used during both the making and consuming of breakfast. Doing chores was a recreational thing for me; knowing that things were being clean and organized brought me peace of mind. It was something Jack couldn't understand; he hated doing the chores, and I could tell.

"Go ahead and take out your dirty clothes, Jack. I'm going to do the laundry!" I announced. Without thinking twice, I barged into Sean's room, abruptly interrupting a conversation he was having on Skype.

"I'm sorry, I'll come ba-"

"Don't worry, Mark. Actually, come here! I want you to meet someone," he waved over at me. Not sure on what to expect, I slowly tiptoed my way next to Jack. 

"Babe, this is my friend, Mark. Mark, this is my girlfriend," Jack introduced. I had yet to look at the screen, feeling embarrassed to show my face. I peeked at the monitor and laid eyes of a decent looking girl. Not to say that she was ugly by any means, I just thought she was cute-looking and nothing more. I never was the kind to focus solely on physical appearance; I liked to meet a person before I made any real judgements of character. Then again, many things depended on the circumstance.

"Hi! Nice to meet you. Jack talks about you a lot," she remarked, giggling a little. 

"Likewise, it was a pleasure to meet you," I responded as the situation required me to, feeling no particular emotion at all.

"Take out your stuff later, then," I whispered, scurrying out of the room before Jack could say anything.

"Daddy, can I play with Sam outside?" Aya screamed at the top of her lungs. I immediately shushed her, signaling her to come to me. 

"Jack is talking to someone. Don't be so loud. You can play outside only if it's the backyard."

"Okay," she whisper-yelled, "thank you, Daddy."

I hurried to the maintenance closet, which I had to establish because Jack had no cleaning materials, and swung the broom out from behind the vacuum cleaner. Chores consumed most of my time, the morning steadily became the afternoon and I thought of nothing but what needed to be done in the house.

"Hey, sunshine! Here're my clothes," Jack trotted next to me, placing the plastic bin filled with his laundry at my feet.

"You should really stop calling me that," I uttered.

"It didn't bother you this morning," he claimed, doing the awkward thing he always did with his eyebrows.

"Who told you that lie?" I laughed dryly, wanting nothing more than to finish the housework. 

"You jealous?" He put forward bluntly. I burst into laughter on the inside but kept a poker face.

"Why should I be?" I asked, picking up the basket of clothes in order to add it to the pile of dirty ones in the laundry room.

"You didn't answer me," he must have wanted to challenge me to say something out of line, but I was an expert at keeping within boundaries. 

"No, I'm not," I assured, walking away from him. His eyes were glued onto me; for I felt the familiar pain of the holes he'd drilled into me before. I didn't want to look at him.

"Meet me in the living room once your done," he commanded, aloof to the conversation we had. I nodded, still not making eye contact with him, and continued onto my objective. I watched as the clothes tumbled in circles in the washer, seeing a representation of my mental turmoil within it. I wasn't jealous, for the record. I was concerned. Had they seen each other in person? Was this a catfish? How close were they? How does she treat Jack? I hoped and prayed to whoever would hear me that this relationship was nothing like the one I was evading. Jack was too good of a person; he didn't deserve anything remotely close to what I've experienced. 

I sighed and dragged myself into the living room. There was no way Jack's girlfriend could resemble Lauren; and besides, Jack was more of the outspoken kind of person—not as weak-minded as I was. Jack was waiting patiently on a couch, watching an animal related documentary depicting the ferocity of lions. He pat the place on the couch next to him and turned off the TV as soon as a lion had successfully executed its prey. 

"Mark, I have a surprised for you," he didn't beat around the bush, it was something I appreciated about him. He was usually honest and straight-forward—something I couldn't be most of the time. 

"If it's anything that exceeds twenty dollars, I'll have to decline," I warned. He chuckled, shaking his head as he pulled a bag from behind him. 

"Here, open it," he said as he pushed the bag against my chest. I studied it dubiously, feeling my hands shake as I took a hold of it. Nothing in the exterior gave a hint of what the insides were, and that was something that I disliked about gifts from Jack. No matter what this was, because I'd inevitably open it, I would be forced to accept it. 

"Jack, what is it?" I asked, shaking the bag.

"Don't ask questions and open the bag," he hurried. The eagerness oozing off of him only made my heart heavy; this wouldn't be good. I bit the inside of my lip, squeezing my eyes shut before ripping the bag open and taking out a box. I opened my eyes, but the suspense was yet to be relieved, for the box was wrapping in decorative paper. Huffing, I pinched a corner of the box, tearing the paper slowly. All I had to see was the chromed lettering on it. I stumbled to my feet and threw the thing at Jack. 

"No! You are not giving me that! I refuse to accept it!" I fumed. 

"What's wrong with it?" Jack mocked innocence, batting his eyelashes and widening his eyes. 

"Everything!" I barked. 

"I'm not going to return it."

"I don't care if you return it or not. I'm not going to accept it!" I interjected, turning toward the backyard. 

"Woah there, where do you think you're going?" He laughed and grabbed my shoulders. 

"You can start a new life with this! Make new friends! Expand your horizons! C'mon, pleeease!" He continued, giving me the most killer grin I'd ever seen grace his face. He was right, and my only argument was that it was too expensive. 

"But...I can't..." I made the last effort to reject the notion, but I knew that this discussion was over, and the future was already set in favor of Jack. 

"Come here! I'll show you how to use it!" He burst with excitement. I cursed him for his wit and myself for my ineptitude. 

"Did you really have to give me one of these?" I was questioning his reasoning mostly. 

"Yes, yes I did because, now, you're gonna try and get back in touch with your family and friends in Cincinnati," he enthused. Cold sweat ran down my back as the mention of my family sent ice through my veins. 

"You really think they want to talk to me?" I muttered under my breath, blades sawing painfully through my heart.

"Is that even a question you have to ask?! Your mom, your step-mom, your brother, your friends, all of them are probably dying to hear from you!" He made known. 

"They...they don't even know Aya exists..." I stressed. I attempted to keep tears from my eyes, but I was the most emotional being on the planet, so the they cascaded off of face in the most ungraceful way possible.

"Oh God, no. Mark, please don't cry," Jack pleaded, sitting me down and hugging me awkwardly to his chest. I wept uncontrollably, convulsing against the arms that held me together. I hated this guy for pandering my sensibilities without thinking about the consequences; however, there were no words I could utter to express the profoundness of my gratitude. 

"I-I hate you so...so much," I choked between sobs, weakly punching him in the chest.

"I know. I know," he soothingly pat my back, paying no importance to my words. 

I was glad Aya's hearing couldn't pick up what was taking place in the living room. I wondered what her reaction would be to meeting my mom; she knew nothing about her but spoken descriptions of her character and her teachings. 

"J-Jack," I paused, "if I do this, I need you to get something for me."

"Really? What?"

"Hair dye."

"Why?" 

"I want to see them. There's a way to do that, right?" I asked.

"Yea, but what does that have to do with your hair?" He questioned.

"I want them to see me as I was when I left," I explained, "and my hair has everything to do with it."

"If you say so, sure," Jack affirmed, bringing a smile to my face. I hadn't even noticed when I stopped crying. 

"Oh, by the way," he added, "this is your phone number." He handed me a sticky note with numbers on it.

"I already added your number to my contacts, and my number is saved on yours too," he boasted and reached for the box. He handed it to me and I took the phone out of its confines. This was going to be the instrument by which I'd reconnect with what I thought was a lost piece of my past. 

"Did it have to be an expensive one?" I emphasized.

"How do you know it was expensive?" He challenged me yet again.

"If it has its own commercial, it's bound to be expensive," I pointed out and yawned.

"Looks like someone needs to go to sleep," Jack ruffled my hair.

"ME!" The voice of my little girl startled us both. I noticed how close Jack and I still were; so I slowly scooted away from him, hoping she wouldn't find anything suspicious. 

"Daddy, I'm tired," Aya rubbed her eyes, as she approached me. 

"I am too, Baby. Let's go to sleep," I offered.

"You can teach me how to use this thing tomorrow. You should hold on to it, for now," I handed him the device alongside with the sticky note. We both rose from the couch and stared at each other before Jack loosely hugged me.

"Good night, sunshine," he whispered in my ear and I laughed.

"Good night, asshole," I responded, pounding my hand against his back as hard as I could. Pulling away, I crouched to pick up Aya and set off to the room. She cuddled next to me on the bed and, like a miracle, an unfamiliar fog was subduing me. Before I knew it, the world ceased to exist and so did my pain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!!! Leave me your feedback, comments, kudos, or whatever! I love you all so very much!!!


	10. Call to the Lost from the Lost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long time, no see! It has been quite a while, hasn't it! I really missed writing leisurely!!! As a way to make up for my absence, I wrote a chapter that is twice as long as the other ones. 4027 words worth of my writing. I'm not sure whether I should boast about it or apologize, but you'll be the judge of that! Thank you so much for reading; I hope you enjoy!!!

I'd never felt so alive in my life. Lucidly, I ran through trees and paths formed by nature. The verdant hues of the wild brought me tranquility, something impossible to find among the stressors of the outside world. Completely aware of my state of being, I prepared myself for what was to come—the horde of sleepless nights and painful migraines. I prayed for no one to wake me, but a prayer as selfish as that one was bound to be unheard.

"Mark! It's four in the afternoon!" Jack hollered into my ear, startling me into consciousness.

"Why did you have to wake me up?" I whined, already longing for the comfortable embrace of sleep. 

"We have some business to take care of," he announced, holding up a box of hair dye and the cell phone. I sighed and sat up straight at the edge of the bed. 

"Where's Aya?" I asked while hesitantly reaching for the new piece of technology being waved in my face.

"She's playing outside with Sam," he answered nonchalantly, looming over my shoulder as I tried to turn on the phone. Jack snatched it and took a seat beside me, showing me the basics of the device. It was surprisingly easier than I thought it was; then again, I didn't mind the little details Jack was trying to teach me about it. I'd be able to find out those things on my own.

"Do you want to eat lunch first, or do you want to dive into the nitty-gritty," he asked.

"Lunch? Wait, what did you guys eat for breakfast? Is Aya hungry? Is sh-"

"I bought some breakfast croissants. Now we have a backup plan! Yes, she already ate." He interrupted.

"Oh, well, might as well dye my hair first; so the dye can soak in while I eat." I decided, getting off of the bed to hunt for a chair. 

"I already have everything in the bathroom!" Jack called after me as I walked out of the door. I stopped to wait for him, wanting the process of dyeing my hair to end already. I wondered what Aya would thing since she's never seen me without the patch of red hair. 

"Impatient, are we," he teased. He paused for a long time before continuing.

"Did you go to sleep late or something?" I tilted my head a little, wanting to see if he was joking. I thought I'd established this information before, but I had most likely been too vague for him to catch onto my drift. It was frustrating.

"Yea, I had a rough night," I lied. Though saying 'Jack, I have sleep issues' sounded pretty painless, I wasn't ready to answer the allotment of questions that would follow.

"You know, maybe we should wait until tomorrow to do this; so you can catch up on your sleep," Jack suggested.

"There's no use in waiting now," I basically growled. In reality, what I wanted to say was something along the lines of 'if you don't say you were kidding in less that ten seconds I will have your balls served to you in scalding hot soup,' but I opted for a more friendly option just in case Aya decided to waltz through the door.

Jack shrugged and that was response enough for me. He waved me over to the bathroom, opening the carton of hair dye and grabbing the tools he was going to use to revert me into the Mark I once was—the Mark my family could recognize. I messed around with the phone, downloading games immediately, as I made myself comfortable on the chair. I wasn't going to go on the quest to stalk my family until Jack would force me to, which he probably would during lunch or something. 

"Remind me why we aren't going to a salon," Jack broke the silence, scrunching his nose as the smell of chemicals harassed his nostrils. 

"I'm sure it's much cheaper to just do it here than to go to a salon. Besides, this isn't rocket science," I replied. I just didn't want to go out of the house, but I wasn't going to say that to Jack. Also, I looked like I was auditioning for the role of a zombie; that was reason enough to hinder my will to socialize.

"I can't believe you trust me with this," he commented as he took an applicator full dye and brushed it through a random strand of my hair.

"It's basically just paint. However, if I wanted to cut my hair, I would never let you anywhere near my neck with scissors in your hand," I joked. I could see myself foolishly trusting him; I already do. Not only do I do so with my hair but also with my daughter. It irked me how easily I granted him such a luxury, but it could very well be a bother for him. 

No. That couldn't be true. He would have said something ages ago. He didn't strike me as the kind of person who would put up with and care for something or someone he didn't like. 

"I wouldn't trust myself with scissors either," Jack laughed. It was one of the most heartwarming sounds one could hear; however, nothing could compare to the moments when Aya would say that she loved me. I relied on the memory of those words to keep me afloat; there was no better motivation and cure for my sorrows than the affection of my child. 

"I like scissors because I get to cut stuff." Speak of the devil and it shall appear. 

I chuckled under my breath, knowing that I used to say that when I was a kid. I turned to greet Aya only to witness the my daughter covered in dirt from head to toe. Her teeth flashed in comparison the mud caked on her face; the shirt she had on was decorated liberally with paw and hand prints alike. Her hair was nothing short of a scarecrow's nightmare; consequently, it was going to be a pain to clean. I could hear Jack trying as hard as he could to stifle his laughter, and all I could do was take deep breaths.

"Aya Gissele Fischbach, what on Earth have you done?" I asked through my teeth. Her eyes popped upon hearing her entire name being called out. She knew she was in trouble. There was no saving her now. This child would be the death of me.

"I was just playing with Sam outside," she pouted, fear still evident on her face.

"How many times have I told her not to play in the mud?" The caustic edge to my voice was piercing through her. Tears were welling up at the corners of her eyes, but I wasn't going to stop.

"But Jack said-"

"I don't care what Jack says! If he tells you to jump off a bridge, are you going to listen to him?" I never raised my voice, but the sternness of my question seemed to be enough to make her cry. My heart cracked; seeing Aya cry was painful to me, but she knew better. Discipline was essential to raising a decent human being, and Aya wasn't going to be a spoiled brat that never suffered the consequences of her actions.

"Go stand in the corner, now," I commanded. The authority in my words contrasted greatly with my nurturing personality, but I liked how different it made me feel—like I had the ability to take charge if need be. 

"And don't you dare touch anything," I added. Aya offered no resistance, whimpering away to the corner like an abandoned puppy.  
"Jack, I'm going to need you to hurry up," I requested as softly as I could.

"No problem. Luckily, this is just the top of your head," he stated, still resisting the urge he had to laugh.

"What's so funny?" 

"She looks so much like you; I wonder if she acts like you too," he mused, not truly answering my question; but I took the statement under consideration. She inherited my clumsiness and maybe even the density of my skull. 

I sat there in silence, watching Jack's reflection as he tried to cover the red of my hair as meticulously as possible. He was almost done, but he was still taking his precious time—not that it bothered me. It was actually very comforting to feel someone messing with my hair. I guess I was so deprived of certain types affection that anything I received was to be cherished. 

"So, this shit is all over your hair now. You're welcome," Jack smiled, sticking his hands in my lathered up hair and massaged my scalp gently. A hum rumbled its way out of my chest; I subconsciously leaned into his touch, but it was so relaxing that I couldn't bring myself to care. Jack didn't mind either. He removed his hands from my head and quickly discarded the gloves he was wearing, only to press his warm fingers firmly against my neck.

"Jesus Christ, man! You're so tense!"

"Well, I'm sorry if I've been through quite an enormous amount of stress," I sassed, rolling my eyes.

"If you're done, I'd appreciate having lunch. I'm starving." I wanted to slap myself for saying that. The lack of heat on my shoulders was disappointing. Jack must have noticed because he smirked at me when I stepped out of the chair and faced him.

"You'd look fabulous if it weren't for your hideous eye bags. You kinda look like you're covered in mud too," he teased, flicking a stiff strand of my hair out of my face. He pat my back and lead me out of the bathroom. Aya was still in the corner, sulking more than sobbing at this point. 

"Aya," I called, sitting myself on the floor a few away from her, "come here."

She warily turned to peak in my direction, visibly stiff; she inspected my hands and my facial expression for any signs of anger, but she found none. I had none. Measuring her steps on the tile, she slowly inched herself in front of me. Her gaze was still fixed on the her crusty shoes. 

"You know that I love you, right?" I asked, gently peeling flecks of dirt off of one of her cheeks. She didn't utter a word, but she nodded. 

"You also know that you're not supposed to play in the mud," I continued. She locked her gaze into mine. Her apology swimming in the darkness of her eyes; there was no need to speak or to gesture. This was a perk of having such a deep relationship with Aya.

"Hey Jack, can you make lunch on your own? I need to get Aya cleaned up," I said, taking off Aya's shoes and throwing them somewhere near the door.

"Yea, sure! Take your time," he affirmed, prancing out of the room. A grin spread across my face as I stood and carried Aya into the bathroom. She was nuzzling her face in my neck, and I was glad that I was going to take a shower later. Aya never complained about baths; on the contrary, the hustle began the moment I'd tell her that it was time to get out. She loved the water. 

"Daddy, I like it when you smile," she giggled. I was working my hands into the straw-like strands of her hair, watching the streams of brown contaminate the rest of the water. I hadn't noticed that my smile ceased to fade, even when I was have a tough time cleaning Aya thoroughly. 

"Me too, Aya." A wave of anxiety drowned the rest of my thoughts. I locked the muscles of my face into the smiling position, knowing that my sudden change in mood would be questioned. Jack was going to make me scavenger hunt for my family.

It took a while, but Aya's shower was over. Lunch was great; I didn't know that Jack could actually cook. It made me that much more confused as to why his refrigerator was basically empty when I arrived, but I was glad that I was eating something. By the time I finished eating it was time for me to rinse my hair. I was going to take as long as possible, but Jack was one step ahead of me. I had taken off my shirt when the door of the bathroom busted open. After hearing a whistle, I knew who it was.

"Damn Mark, how much do you lift?" Jack cackled from the doorway. The way he was staring at my chest would have made me uncomfortable before; however, it felt the same as hanging out with a close friend. I suppose we were friends, but I wouldn't consider him close. Or was he? I did trust him with my daughter, but he doesn't know much about us. It was hard to label the relationship we had, considering the circumstances in which we became this way. 

"Carrying Aya to and fro is not a task for the weak," I played along, pulling down the pants that Jack gave me as an I-hope-you-learn-to-like-me-and-don't-get-freaked-out-by-my-closeness gift. His eyes nearly popped out of their sockets; it was oddly satisfying to watch.

"You must do squats too," he pointed out in a much lower volume. He was nervous; I could tell, but I couldn't bring myself to care. 

"Did you come here to check me out, or did you have something to say?" I asked, immediately noticing the light shade of pink that covered the entirety of his face.

"Why not both?" He countered. The façade of confidence wasn't working in his favor this time. I wasn't going to push the issue though. I simply stared at him, hooking a thumb on the waistband of my briefs. I wasn't in control of my own body. This wasn't a me thing to do; I wouldn't do this with anyone else. I didn't even act this way with Lauren before things went to hell. Why was it suddenly not as bad when it was Jack?

"Tell me what you came here for before I take my underwear off," I warned. Was it considered a warning? Jack probably wouldn't take it as such.

"Try me," he wiggled his eyebrows. The red creeping on his ears betrayed him.

"I have standards," I huffed. I didn't have standards; that explained why I was here in the first place, or I did have standards, but they were so incredibly low that anyone could meet them. Once Jack rolled his eyes, the coast was clear—from one thing, at least.

"You have thirty minutes to shower before I pull you out," he stated blatantly, the blush fading. It must be imperative to him for me to contact my family. 

"Your time starts now!" He yelled, slamming the door behind him. I raced into the shower only to realize that I was more than okay with this length of time. My regular showers lasted around twenty minutes. I was set. 

I closed my eyes to rinse away the dye, and the faces of my family members burned themselves to the back of my eyelids. A shiver raked achingly down my entire body. This was either going to go terribly or magnificently, and I was hoping and praying for the latter. However, there was no clear way to pin point their reaction—and it killed me. I wanted to see them so badly, but I didn't want to come face-to-face with the damage I'd caused because of my unexpected departure. I knew, though, that if it wasn't now I would never muster the courage to do it alone. 

"I wonder how you'd react, Dad," I muttered, looking passed the ceiling and into what I imagined heaven would be. I took a deep breath and hurried to get out of the shower. I wasn't surprised to see Jack standing beside the door, phone in hand with a timer as I walked out. 

"Aw, I was hoping you'd take a little longer," he pouted, not looking up from his phone. 

"Sorry to disappoint. Maybe next time," I offered dryly, changing into some comfortable clothes. I had the marvelous idea of bringing some briefs in with me, which I applauded myself for.

"You'll be fine Mark," Jack said, sitting down on the bed to watch me put some socks on, "I'm sure they want to know where you've been and how you've been doing." 

"But there's no way to know that for sure. Is there?" I countered, taking a seat next to him on the bed.

"That's why we try," he rebutted, every ounce of fatuous ramble drained from his tone.

"Mark, if anything goes wrong, I'm here. I know it sounds weird and all, but trust me when I say that you've become really important to me." He squeezed my shoulder. Though he called me awkward nicknames on a daily basis and acted confident, he struggled to properly articulate his emotions. It must have taken him plenty of effort to form those words.

"Thank you," I whispered, gripping firmly on the hand perched on my shoulder. 'If I squeeze it hard enough, the shattered edges of my soul would mend,' I thought.

"C'mon, you left your phone in the kitchen," he slid off the bed, hand never moving from its position. I rose after him, and we walked to the kitchen together. 

My hand was trembling uncontrollably around my phone. Jack and I migrated to the living room, leaving Aya some paper and pencils so she could color. My stomach was churning, spinning in all sorts of directions. My heart was hammering violently against my lungs, knocking the breath out of me. It took me four tries to unlock my phone, but I wasn't sure what to do afterward. I looked up to meet Jack's stare. Though his eyes were such a icy shade of blue, the warmth and security in his gaze were both undeniable and inviting. 

"Let me log into my Facebook. We can start there, okay?" Jack sought my approval, although it didn't matter much in the situation. I handed him the device immediately, too willing to rid myself of the wretched thing.

"Who do you want to search first? Your mom? Your-"

"My brother," I quickly interrupted. I wanted this ache to end already.

"Thomas, right?" Jack asked. I shrugged, not knowing what my brother would put his name as.

"Search for Jason. Jason Fischbach first." I murmured. 

"How do you spell that?" He was ready to type, but I snatched the phone away from him. I might as well do what I could. There were so many faces, yet none of them were of a person that I knew. I cleared the search bar and searched for Thomas. I was sure that I wouldn't find him. I was. There was no way he'd appear among all of these strange faces. My body was a second from imploding. 

There he was.

I clicked on his name so fast, Jack didn't get the time to see his face until he took the phone away from me.

"Maybe he has his phone number stated somewhere over here," he reasoned, stalking my brothers page. I smirk appeared on his pale face. My heart sank.

"You know, if you do get to terms with your family, you should tell your brother a thing or two about privacy settings," he chuckled. This wasn't the time to be chuckling and cracking jokes, but I didn't want him to stop. I would much rather hear his joking tone forever than do what he was going to make me do in a few seconds. He pulled out his phone and dialed the number but didn't press the call button. I sat there anxiously waiting for him to call, but he didn't.

"Use your phone so he'll have your number instead of mine." I gulped, nodding. Fire circled through my veins, burning my wrists as I pressed the individual numbers on the screen. Is this what hell would feel like? I stared fearfully at the ten digit number that was shining brighter than my future. I took one last deep breath before shakily pressing the green button. My other hand flew toward Sean's, clutching it like a lifeline. A scalding heat blistered my insides; the ringing of the phone pummeled through my ears and ricocheted off of the walls of my skull. Time couldn't pass any slower even if it were sitting on a dead turtle.

"Hello?" The voice echoed in my ear drums. It was him. My face constricted in agony, my jaw trembled as I bit down a sob. I could neither inhale or exhale. Rocking back and forth, I cradled Jack's hand against my chest. Tears soaking both my face and our hands. Whether I was crying out of joy or pain was way beyond my ability to comprehend.

"H-Hello," I choked. My voice wasn't going to be uniform no matter what I did, but I wanted to sound like I was capable of assembling coherent sentences. 

"Who is this?" He asked, clearly puzzled as to why a prepubescent-sounding male was calling him in tears.

"Is Jason there?" I decided to stall a bit. No. Not stall. I wanted to hear his voice—absorb it into my memory in case things went south and his tone changed to a more caustic one. 

"Yea, this is he. Who is it?" Maybe the trembling of my voice hindered him from recognizing me, or he could have forgotten about me completely. That was plausible; no amount of preparation could make this part of the conversation any easier.

"I'm. . . Hey, Tom. I-it's me. It's. . .me, Mark." I stuttered between breaths. The deed was done. 

Jack wrapped his free arm around me much differently than he did yesterday. There was nothing awkward or labored about the way I rested against him. I didn't know what I would do if I didn't have Jack sitting next to me. The hectic thumping of his heart compensated for the silence at the other end of the phone line. He was anxious too. A hiss of pain let me know that Thomas hadn't hung up on me. I guess that was a good sign.

"I must be hearing things," he mumbled almost inaudibly. If I were a stranger, I wouldn't have been able to decipher what he was saying. I was used to his tendency to say things under his breath.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't hear you. Who. . . is this?" The quaking of his voice was unmistakable. Was this good?

"It's me. It's Mark." It was easier to say it this time around. The fact that my head was swimming could be partially the reason why.

"Mark? Is it really you?" He asked incredulously. 

"Hi..." I whispered, throat impeding me from making any louder sound. I heard a beeping in my ear. Curiously, I looked at the screen only to see the blinking words "call ended." Determined not to wail to the high heavens, I clenched my jaw. Jack's around held me tighter, letting go of my hand to completely envelop me. Before the entirety of the disillusion fell upon me, my phone started to ring again. 

"He wants to see your face, Mark," Jack pet my newly dyed hair, "It's a video call." I untangled myself from his frame, hesitantly staring at the screen. I wasn't ready to fully let go of him, so I held on to one of his sleeves. He smiled widely, nodding toward the phone. I waited for it to ring a little more, for I was still unsure of how ready I was to talk to Thomas while simultaneously looking at his face. There was slightly more of a barrier when I wasn't looking at him, but he is my brother. The least I could do was sacrifice some of my comfort for the sake of seeing him again, despite the amount of my mental health I had butchered in the last half an hour. Giving Jack's hand a last wrist-breaking squeeze, I accepted the call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoop whoop! Hooray for a little bit of my "angst." I know it's bad. I'm sorry. I wish I could tell you all that I will be updating regularly; but unfortunately, that is not the case. Please leave me your feedback, comments, kudos, or whatever! I appreciate your support! I love you!!!  
> ~ Kalopsia


	11. Relatively Prepared

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before I go MIA because of senior struggles, I wrote a chapter as fast as I could! Hopefully, you can hang in there and wait for me; but if you can't I understand. Thank you so much for reading! Enjoy! I love you!

Though my wrist was trembling horribly, my heart was beginning to steady. It was not tranquil by any means, but it certainly wasn't hindering my breathing anymore. Upon answering the call, I didn't see Tom right away; but after a few seconds, his face emerged from the darkness of the screen. He hadn't changed at all. 

"Mark? Are you there?" He called desperately. The yearning in his eyes was impossible to miss. A cheek-numbing smile stretching across the underused muscles of my face. I tapped the camera icon, revealing my idiotically happy face. His glistening eyes put my nerves at ease, and I slid my hand away from Jack's. 

"Yea, yea. I'm right here," I croaked, my throat sore from all the sobs I swallowed. 

"Oh my God, Mark! It's you!" He screamed. I winced at the burst of volume, but the smile on my face didn't fade. If anything, tears of unfiltered happiness danced liberally down my face. It never felt this good to cry. 

"Man, I'm so happy to see you," he continued, " How have you been? Where are you? What are you doing? Goddammit, Mark! We haven't heard from you in so long we thought you were dead!"

A pinch of guilt entered my system, but it was overshadowed by the overwhelming happiness of knowing that they hadn't forgotten about me. However, the need to apologize was stronger than my desire to catch up.

"I'm sorry," I sobbed, "I'm so sorry. I. . . I never meant to worry you guys this much. I thought things would be so much more different." The tears didn't stop, but I didn't want them to. They conveyed my point better than my words ever could. 

"I know, Mark," Thomas confirmed. Being brothers and all, he knew that I was a predominantly family-oriented person; and their opinion and acceptance meant the world to me. He knew I would have tried as hard as I could to contact him under different circumstances—though he wasn't aware of them himself.

"How's Mom?" I asked before there could be any sort of pause in our conversation.

"You know how she is. She tries to act all tough, but she is still pretty worried," he replied, "She'll be ecstatic to hear from you." 

"I hope so," I chuckled, imagining my mom frantically doing chores or cleaning pristine dishes.

"Where are you living now?" He asked curiously. He was probably hoping that I lived nearby. 

"LA," I responded laconically. 

"Wow, that's so far!" Tom exclaimed, "What are you doing all the way over there?"

I didn't know what to answer. I should have opened up to him about everything right there, but it felt out of place to do so over a call. If I was ever graced with his presence again, I would definitely tell him. For now, however, any response could do.

"It's where fate brought me, I guess." That was general enough.

"Well, fate might bring you back," he smiled, "It's my daughter's birthday this weekend. Mark, it would mean a lot to me if you came. I'd pay your ticket and everything; you wouldn't have to worry about a thing." I just sat there, my eyes were dry from all the crying and staring I'd done. I didn't know what to say.

"There's no need for that," I shook my head. 

"Of course there is!" Tom yelled, slamming his fist against something. Distress coating his previously happy features.

"It's been such a long time. More than four years. Four years! Is that not enough?" I let his words sink in. Four years. Was it enough? The exile from my family was punishment, yet four years seemed like a small price to pay for how inconsiderate I was.

"Bob and Wade go to Mom's house to ask for you all the time! Dee calls me at random intervals just to ask if we've 'found' you yet. Everyone misses you," he choked, "I miss you."

"I miss you too. I miss home, but it's not that easy."

"What do you mean? Look where you're living, I can see the stairway from here! Can't you ask for a few days off at work? That is, if you have a job." He nagged.

"This isn't my house, Tom!" I ground my teeth and selectively decided not to answer the second question. I forgot how much I got a kick out of our trivial arguments. How damaged must I be to relish in such things?

"Then whose is it? Your girlfriend's?" I flinched at the word, but I managed to point the camera toward Jack.

"It's his," I stated dryly.

"And yours too, by default," Jack muttered loud enough for Tom to hear. Jack waved at the camera, but Tom merely raised his eyebrow. Oh boy, I hoped that he didn't get the wrong idea.

"So what if you're gay, Mark! You can bring your boyfriend; that's no big deal!" Tom rolled his eyes. I choked on my saliva, dropping my phone in the process. Of course he'd misinterpret the situation. Jack gasped and lunged from his place on the couch to the phone. He checked it, meticulously searching for injuries and vitals like some kind of phone paramedic.

"I'm not gay!" I screamed. Aya tore her attention from the sheet of paper to me; she opened her mouth to say something, but I immediately shook my head. She quickly understood my unspoken command and continued with her doodles.

"If you say so," he shrugged. Jack cackled to himself as he handed me my phone. 

"I'm glad you find his amusing," I hissed quietly. My face burst with heat when I imagined what Tom would have thought about our close proximity just a few moments ago. Tom was never going to let me live this one down, and he was to blame. I wouldn't be surprised if they threw me a coming out party the moment they heard that I stepped foot in Cincinnati. 

"In all seriousness, Mark," the sarcastic tone disappeared, "you should highly consider coming. It would be nice to talk to you like the old days. Unless all you wanted was a brief I'm-okay-you-can-live-in-peace moment. In which case, it's done." 

I bit the inside of my cheek, pondering on whether or not I was emotionally ready to see my mom. Sure, I didn't take an initiative to find her, but I still longed to see her. The same thing applied for the rest of my family and friends. If I were to go, I would need strong emotional support. Someone capable of carrying me in case something went wrong. Tom could be a considerate human being, but he wouldn't have the courage to stand toe-to-toe against Mom. Naturally, I knew who would.

"Alright, you win," I spoke loudly to myself.

Thomas cheered from the other side of the screen, chirping about how excited everyone was going to be. Bubbles of joy erupted within me too. I would have screeched and squealed into the cushions, but I thought that was a little too much. I turned to comment something to Jack about how awesome this could be, but I ended up studying his expression instead. 

He looked sympathetically happy for me, smiling widely and flashing his teeth. It was humanoid—like it had been carved into his face or someone was coercing him into hiding something. 

"On one condition," I interrupted Tom's chatter that I wasn't paying attention to.

"Sure. You name it," he shrugged, rolling his eye, "If you want to bring your boyfriend, that's fine. You know there's enough space in the house."

"He's not my boyfriend," I huffed, " but yea. Also, let me pay for my own tickets. Please." Tom smiled affectionately, breathing out a laugh while shaking his head.

"Sure thing. That just means I can save a little more." He affirmed before one of his daughters joyously announced that she was home. 

"Hey, I'll be texting you! I want this to be a surprise for her, so I won't tell her I've been talking to you. You be good okay?" He cooed awkwardly, not even waiting for my response as he ended the call.

I slumped against the couch, relaxing muscles that I hadn't realized were locked in place. I closed my eyes as I deeply inhaled; the air was so much cleaner, and it was easier to breathe. The chair Aya was in scratched harshly against the floor; and the pitter patter of feet echoed rapidly, alerting my body of the sudden weight that would crash onto me at any second.

"Who was that?" Aya asked, jumping on top of me and bruising my collarbone with her bony jaw. 

"That was your Uncle Thomas. Do you remember me telling you about Uncle Thomas?" I swear, talking to Aya made me feel like a kid's show character at times; but I lived for it. She nodded vigorously.

"Are we gonna go see him?" She eagerly fidgeted in my lap.

"Yea. And we're gonna visit Grandma too," I added a little less enthusiastically. She wasn't a cut-throat Asian mother, but my thoughts wouldn't let go of the unfortunate scenario I was putting together in my subconscious. 

"Yay! Daddy, Dora on TV has a grandma too!" She babbled, hopping off of me to stand in front of Jack.

"I'm gonna go see my grandma, Jack! Are you gonna see your grandma?" Aya's interrogation began. He let out a burst of laughter.

"Nah! My granny's a busy woman. She also lives really far away, so it would take too much time," he chuckled. 

"Where does your grandma live?" At this point, I started paying more attention to their conversation; for Aya had more courage to ask about things than I did. It was the gift children had—not truly seeing the point in restraining their curiosity.

"My grandma lives all the way in Ireland with my parents, my brothers, and my sisters." He puffed his chest, proudly thickening his accent to accentuate the fact that he was Irish.

"Then why don't you come see my grandma? She's closer," she stated so directly that my flow of oxygen ceased. Jack's laughter thundered in my ears; he gripped his sides, more than likely trying to ease the pain that ensued from his spastic giggles.

"I don't know. You'd have to ask your daddy first," he managed to speak between ongoing fits of amusement. The way he said "daddy" made my teeth grate together, my very soul cringing. 

"Actually," I inserted before the confidence I rallied up evaporated under the heat of my embarrassment, "I was going to ask you the same thing." 

"You two are hilarious," Jack sighed, wiping a stray tear from his cheeks. He was taken aback by the silent glares we gave him; Aya's was probably a thousand times more gut-wrenching to witness.

"You were serious?" He inquired, or perhaps he was trying to make sure he heard correctly. A smile laced with uncertainty curved gently on his visage. The hopeful glint in his eyes was growing, expanding into his depth of his irises. 

"That is, if you're not too busy," I joked. He had nothing to do. He probably had two sessions in the few weeks or months I'd been here.

"And you want to!" Aya added, looking up at me for approval. I nodded.

"Do you really want me to go?" He pressed on. This had passed from curiosity and uncertainty to discomfort and insecurity, though the expression forged onto his face would say otherwise." I huffed a laugh and ruffled Aya's hair.

"Jack, I won't force you to do anything you don't want to do. And yes. I'd love it you came with us; Aya would thoroughly enjoy your company as well," I added Aya into the mixture to not sound as selfish as I truly was. 

I wanted Jack to be there so I was sure that I had someone to carry me in case things went south; he was the only friend I could guarantee would try to hold me together if I showed any signs of smashing into smithereens. He would console me, or at least try to. Aya wasn't knowledgeable enough to know what to say or what to do. She was simply a child. 

Though her love was my very source of breath, she was too naïve to see the cruelty and darkness of those who inhabit the world around her. Jack knew, or more like I felt that he did. There was something about the way he sympathized, or empathized, with me that lead me to believe he had been wronged. Perhaps not to the same degree I had, maybe even worse; but there was no way I would overlook his mannerisms. The way he patted my shoulder when I'd zone out. The way he'd accompany me when I was sitting alone in the living room. The simple fact that he went the extra mile to buy me a phone and reconnect with my family. How was I not supposed to think about it? Or not notice it?

"Okay," Jack's response crashed head-first against my train of thought. It was loud. Enthusiastic. Like the confident Jack I'd grown fond of. But I would never admit to that out loud.

"It's Tuesday, so I'll reserve a ticket for Thursday. We should make this a one-way trip in case anything goes bonkers." Whether he was talking to me or just planning out loud was not clear to me. However, it didn't matter. Jack was coming with me.

"I'll call a friend to take care of Sam," he continued rambling, "and..." I couldn't catch the rest because I'd completely left my body. 

"Let's pack our bags! We're going to Cincinnati!" Jack screamed, flailing his arms in the air—Aya joining him.

I was going home! Home!

 

Home?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, please leave me your feedback, comments, kudos, or whatever you see fit! Your comments keep me alive, and thank you so much for the support! I hope you all have a great day! I love you!!!


	12. Memories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long time, no see! It feels like ages since I've been on this site. I thought I'd never return, honestly. However, I am beyond excited to finally be out of school and have a shit ton of free time! Some of you might have noticed the changes in tags and in the overall rating; I decided against writing smut just because I feel that the sensuality of it doesn't have much of a place in this fic without being forced. If you were here for eventual smut, I'm so sorry; and I understand if you decide to leave. I sincerely hope you guys enjoy this chapter; it's not much, so I apologize. I can't wait to finally get used to updating again!!!

The days leading up to our departure blurred together like the days before them. I hadn't slept since then, but that was nothing out of the ordinary.  The backpack Jack decided to buy me was heavy with toys and snacks for Aya; my lower back was already aching. However, I was worried more over the possibility that someone would charge Jack for the extra bags I was carrying under my eyes; but by the looks of it, he hadn't slept well either. 

Aya was taunting both of us, curled on my chest as hers rose and fell like the steady waves of the ocean. Her ear was pressed gently above the leveled beating of my heart, where she'd always fall asleep as a baby. The rhythm of the palpitating muscle lulled even the most unruly of her childish thoughts. 

"She's so cute when she sleeps," Jack cooed, twirling his finger in one of her pigtails before reaching quickly for his camera and snapping a picture before I could notice its existence. 

"Did you have to bring that thing along?" I complained. It was going to be a massive thorn in my side if I had to be on the constant lookout for a wild camera. A wild photographer. 

"Yes! I obviously had to! Did you think I'd miss out on the perfect opportunity for some shots? Come on! What kind of photographer would I be if I let this go?" He hollered. I instinctively tightened my arms around my daughter and I swatted his shoulder roughly to shush him. The people around us glared at Jack with the same intensity as I did. I could only imagine their frustration once Jack was on the plane.

"Just so you know, Tom doesn't like-" I tried to warn him, but his phone rang. He raced to get his phone out of his pocket and answered just as hurriedly. Once I saw a familiar and feminine face light up the screen, I looked down and snuggled into Aya's hair. 

"Hey, babe!" The shrill greeting sent waves of nostalgia crashing into me. Lauren was just as sweet to me at one point; her joy would warm the caverns of my sad and lonely heart. Unfortunately, it couldn't stay that way. I closed my eyes and tried to channel out their conversation as much as I could, but the fits of squeaky giggles gave me the kind of goosebumps one would get upon hearing nails against a chalkboard. It was nauseating. 

No. It was so much more than that—so much more than nostalgia and envy. It was the scars of my misery, my affliction. The throbbing of having to breathe through the permanent wounds of wrongdoings, the goods left undone, made it painful to live peacefully. It was all the more difficult when the very fruit of these things corroded the linings of my soul whenever I held it near, yet I took so much pleasure in doing so.

The ringing of the intercom only emphasized the how empty and shallow my thoughts were. A person at the desk announced that first-class travelers were to board the plane, so I clutched my tickets and rose from my seat. The reason why Jack had to get us first-class tickets was beyond me; not to mention that my begging had been completely ignored. I didn't bother to look back to see if Jack was close behind or not. After all, Jack would be seated behind me; for Aya's seat was the one beside mine.

Sitting Aya down without waking her was one of the most challenging things I had done today. Every time she felt her cheek leave my chest, she would whimper and whine at the loss of warmth. I was flattered; or rather, I was content with knowing that she needed me and wanted me in equal measures. As much as I wanted to relish in that idea, plane security held a much greater priority than my emotional desires.

Well, Jack didn't need me.

Why did that bother me?

Perhaps the thought that I was so dependent on him is what was unsettling me; if he were as attached to me as I was to him, I would feel better about myself and my mental faculties. 

"Why'd you run off so fast?" Jack whisper-yelled while peeking through the separation between the seats.

"I'm just a little anxious," muttered. That wasn't completely false; I was mortified. The more time passed the more the reality of the situation hit me. I was taking on a behemoth of emotional risks by going through with this; I wasn't ready for the inevitable questions or the possible censure. 

"You don't need to worry, buddy! I've gotcha! You can always count on me to lift your spirits!" He exclaimed, yet his voice trembled a tad. I narrowed my eyes nonetheless, even though I knew he couldn't see me. 

"Where is all this enthusiasm coming from," I smirked, "could it be that you're overcompensating for something? Like a fear of heights?"

"Me? Scared of heights?" Jack snickered. "Of course I am!"

I giggled shamelessly as I rolled my eyes and turned to face him. His hand was latched air tight onto the back of my seat; his was shivering uncontrollably. Poor thing. I warily pat his head, careful not to disrupt the natural waves of his hair and making sure my hands didn't linger between the strands of it. He didn't make a single comment; I both appreciated and detested the silence. 

"It's okay, Jack. If we go down, we go down together," the words poured out of me without a hint of restraint. My teeth clenched painfully together, and an excruciating urge to shiver harbored in the core of my spine. The piercing silence tensed the muscles in my chest and cuffed my lungs against my heart. I wished Jack would say something.

He didn't.

I silently begged him to break the forming ice that thrived in our stagnant conversation. 

He wouldn't.

I wanted him to walk within the lead boots that shackled me—feel just how sore I became from the smallest of things despite being disintegrated entirely from others previous circumstances.

He couldn't.

Gracelessly, I spun to face the window while the earth followed suit; and I was in a frenzied blur. Trying to blink away my confusion could not distract me from Jack's overwhelming presence beside me. 

"Hey, Mark, do you believe in-"

"Sir, please follow instructions, sit correctly in your seat, and fasten your seat belt," a flight attendant barked, surprisingly monotonous, right next to Jack, holding no regard to the fact that Jack was mid-question. 

Silence seemed to be a motif throughout my day at this point; yet another sheet of thick emotions covered us—asphyxiated us. In the meantime, I sought any form of distraction I could. 

The hours between Los Angeles and Cincinnati could not be more eternal. My stomach was writhing under the grip of my nerves, and my jaw lacked its capability to stay put. I knew exactly what was going to happen; I unbuckled my seatbelt just as quickly as Jack had pulled out his phone earlier, and I bolted directly toward the airplane restroom. 

At the mercy of the physical toll my body was taking, I kneeled before the toilet seat without so much as considering closing the door. I hadn't even noticed the door was open until hands rubbed up and down my spine. 

"My mom always rubbed my back when I felt sick," Jack made the conscious effort to lower the energy on his voice. I didn't answer; I accepted the gesture and continued heaving uncontrollably into the void of porcelain. Eventually, the contents of my stomach erupted from my sickly frame and burned every ounce of flesh on its way out. I was swimming in cold sweat by the time my body had no more to give. 

I gripped the edges of the toilet, desperately attempting to fumble onto my feet but to no avail. Not only were my feet asleep but they were also weak, as was my entire being. My neck couldn't bear the weight of my head, so I let it rest against Jack's shoulder. My head throbbed. My legs ached. My stomach pulsed.   
"How about we get you back to your seat? Let's just hope that Aya didn't wake up while we were in here," Jack offered, carrying almost every pound of my strength-depleted self. 

I smiled. I was every but joyful, yet my lips curled at a feeling I hadn't felt in a while. We made it to my seat, but I didn't recall anything on the way there. Aya was still asleep, for which I was relieved; and my exhaustion took the reins over my cognizance. I was joining Aya.

Not quite. 

Six hours worth of time took the skin of a mere second. There was still a dull ache making its rounds through my veins, but that was forgotten once two beating orbs of black consumed the skin they gazed upon.

"What's wrong, Princess?" I yawned, rubbing my temples.

"We're almost in Ohio, Daddy! The lady said-" Aya rambled, but a familiar ticklish sensation scurried up my frame. Almost, huh?

"We're finally here! Precious land!" Jack screamed, jumping to his feet.

"Sir! Can you please take your seat and wait for further instructions!" I could keep myself from laughing, but I didn't see a good reason why. The frustration in her voice suggests that he must have been up to some mischief while I was out cold. Besides, laughing would aid in doing away with a fraction of my anxiety. 

In five minutes Jack, Aya, and I were escorting ourselves onto sweet land. Our steps thundered in my ears, and my heart melted into my veins. I was in Cincinnati. This was home; this was the ultimate treasure of my past. We claimed our bags in a blink of an eye and took a cab to the nearest hotel. Although I slept through most of the tortuous hours of nothingness, there remained a deep seeded longing for a bed or place that could offer more comfort than a plane seat.

"Did you text Tom that we're here?" Jack commented right before opening the door of the room we were sharing. The cloud looming over me hid any sort of recollection concerning my brother, but I decided to call. Texting would take a lot of effort I was not willing to put in at that moment. 

Hollering to the high heaven, Tom answered the phone. In the midst of the haze my skull was immersed in, I could make out plans that Tom had for us before his daughter's party on Saturday. His words mended together in an unordinary fashion, every syllable becoming indistinguishable. 

"You're sick, huh?" Tom chuckled, enunciating his question for my retrograding brain to comprehend. "It's okay. You'll be fine by tomorrow."  
"How do you know that?" I grumbled. 

"You always get air-sick, Mark. Did you forget?" He amusingly exhaled. I could clearly visualize his condescending head shake, and I giggled. This was exactly how we were as children. I'd always do the stupid things that I forgot would lead to absolutely no good, and he wouldn't bother to warn me beforehand. He would, however, be sure to rub it in my face whenever the aftermath struck me out of place. 

"Yea. I guess I did."

"Go to sleep, Mark. You must be super jetlagged," Tom concluded the conversation, giving a quick synopsis of what he was saying before about going around town. Whispering a temporary farewell, I ended the call to stare blankly at the phone screen. A lone spot of blue caught my eye and an idea that I would probably regret crossed my mind. If anything went wrong, I would blame the exhaustion high I was in. 

"Jack, can I go into your Facebook really quick please?" I asked as politely as a tired person could. 

"Why? I mean, sure. But why?" 

"I want. . . I want to see something." Jack had every right to question my motives, but every muscle in my face refused to utter one more word. He understood me though; or at least, I assume that he did. He threw his phone from his bed to mine, hitting my arm because I was too lazy to put forth the energy to catch it. 

I started to plug in familiar names into the Facebook search bar. The first name that came to mind being Wade, despite the "hate" that my friends and I had for him. A Cheshire grin disrupted the spent features of my face. Of course, he had changed quite significantly since the last time I saw him, but it was undoubtedly Wade, and that was enough to bring my heart to the brink of exploding. I searched for Bob and had the exact reaction as when I saw Wade. He'd changed, but I wondered if he still was just like the young adult I'd roomed with years ago. 

It was liberating to have such a pure-hearted and fond wave of nostalgia rock every inch of my thoughts. The best trip down memory lane, that was what this was. I wanted to live in this lane, die in it, and stay in it forever; but despite my happiness, I was still tired. My aching bones would not let me forget, but what I did forget was to give Jack his phone back before I blanked out. 

But I was happy. For now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! As always, feel free to leave me feedback; for I desperately need it! Your comments kept me motivated to get back into writing, so I appreciate every single one of you!!! I love you all so very much! Have an amazing day/night!!!


	13. To Another Us

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who doesn't know the meaning of consistency? Me! I wanted to get a chapter out before my birthday, so I did, and I feel accomplished. I did take some time to chill with my family now that I'm home. I also spent a few days recovering from all the social events and my nearly broken arm. Anyway, thank you for waiting. I can't wait to see what you think.

The boisterous cry of my cell phone shook me out of my elongated blink. Although my waking was abrupt, my body was rested; and I was alive again. Alive until I realized that I had no alarm on my phone. As I unlocked the screen, the blatant terror I felt crawled into the muscles of my face. This was horrible; this was agony. No matter how fast I tried to move my fingers it was never fast enough; but I leveled the phone with my ear, prepared for the allotment of nagging remarks. 

I remembered the faces of my friends whenever they had missed calls from their mom; the imminent fear in every pore of their body was exposed, and their pupils dilated as if their death were staring them in the eyes. I never understood that—why they were so scared. Not until now.

"H-hello?" Shaking off the grogginess of sleep was a bad idea. I bit my lip and waited. One second. Two seconds. Three sec-

"Finally! I thought were going to back out and start ignoring me!" I could practically hear Tom wave his arms around frantically. 

"You surprised?" I rolled my eyes. Getting used to my brother's attitude brought back some of my dormant sass. I wasn't totally hating this feeling.

"Slightly but it's a good kind of surprised," he added with a bit of sarcasm laced into his laugh. 

"Anyway, now that I have your attention, I'll meet you at the old coffee shop," he wasn't giving me an option to stay in today. I took a deep breath. Was this the coffee shop that we frequented growing up?

"Yes, it's the same one we used to go to all the time. You still remember where it is, right?" His booming voice reached my ears before I could even ask the question. 

"Okay, um... I'll-"

"You'll be there in fifteen minutes tops! No excuses! I'm taking as much time with you as I can," he pointed out. I was a little taken aback by how demanding he was being, but my chest fluttered once he expressed how badly he wanted to see me. In my mind, I could see the wrinkles on their face whenever my name was mentioned; and I could feel the hostility with which they would destroy me. However, having Tom's eagerness reach my ears brought me the hope that maybe everything was not the way I had been painting it for over four years.

"Yea," I smiled, "I'll be there in fifteen minutes."

 

"Great! I'll see you then!" Before I could even say goodbye, the phone beeped in my ear; and I knew there was no use in saying anything more. His habit of going straight to the point hadn't gone anywhere.

Putting down my phone, I jumped out of bed to rummage around my suitcase. I poured the contents on the floor, trying to find a decent set of clothes that would not show the fact that I was an emotional travesty. I was contemplating going for my red flannel; it was something that got me out of similar clothing related stressful situations. 

Also, I was very emotionally attached to the shirt. It had ripped on several occasions, but my heart would ache at the thought of throwing it away, so I would find the time to sew it back together. Lauren wasn't a big fan of it though. I could recall a handful of situations in which she would ridicule me for wearing it. 'What's the use for dressing like a lumberjack if you can't even pick up a fucking ax?' I hesitantly put down the flannel, biting my lip while trying to find another shirt.

"Why'd you put it down?" I flinched at the sudden wave of sound. I hadn't noticed that Jack was awake.

"It looked like you had your heart set on that one," he continued, gracefully stretching himself into complete awareness. 

"I don't know..." That was my truth-not that I didn't know the reason-I obviously did. I just couldn't make up a speech to justify myself to Jack. 

"I just don't look very good in it," I lied in one of the most awkward of ways.

"Put it on." Although there was nothing harsh about the way he spoke, that didn't stop my blood from freezing despite the overwhelming heat engulfing my face. I did as he told me to without giving the action much thought. In one minute, I had the flannel buttoned and its sleeves rolled up. 

"It's pretty hot," Jack nodded, studying the article of clothing.

"It's seventy-three degrees outside. What are you talking about?" I was genuinely confused.

"I'm saying that you look fuckin' hot in that shirt," he elaborated while rolling off the bed. I had no idea how he could say that with a straight face. Mine, on the other hand, was flaming out of every orifice possible. 

"That's not true," I hung my head, mumbling the sentence mostly to myself. 

Without a word, Jack squeezed my arm in his grasp and shoved me into the bathroom. He roughly took my face in his hands, and we locked eyes. There was something terrifying in the way that a flame of determination contrasted greatly with the serene blue of his irises. His grip tightened around my jaw, yet his touch was gentle. The world was closing in. I was going to suffocate. Suddenly, my head was nearly snapped toward our reflection in the mirror, and my body was bent slightly forward on the bathroom counter. 

"Do you see that hunk of a man?!" Jack yelled. Stunned by what was going down, my mouth refused to move.

"Do you see that sexy ass mutha fuckin' man," he screamed louder, "I can't hear you!"

"Yes," I murmured. 

"What was that?!" He teased.

"Yes," I said.

"Huh?!"

"Yes! I see that hunk of a man in the mirror!" I hollered. 

"That's the spirit, Tiger!"

A little breeze of relief cooled down my embarrassment. It wasn't the positive affirmations that brought me ease, however. It was the reassurance of Jack's genuine care for me that simmered down my nerves. 

"You still wanna change the shirt?" Jack smirked, crossing this arms and leaning back on the counter.

"It's fine," I shrugged, "I guess."

"That's good enough," he laughed. It was a very pure laughter, no sarcasm or irony threaded within it. Unadulterated joy and alleviation were what escaped his throat. It was comforting.

"Well," I began, "it looks like I'm ready now." Jack simply nodded and left the bathroom. I glanced at myself in the mirror again, mentally approving of my outfit; yet I was still petrified by the notion of Tom thinking it was ridiculous.

I walked into the bedroom area, ready to wake up Aya when I thought hindered me from doing so. At no point did I ever tell Tom that I had a daughter. I was not ready to present Aya to my family, at least not while I was alone. Jack was going to stay here and relax a bit so he could give me "privacy." 

"H-hey, Jack. Can I ask you for something really important?" I shied away from myself. He chuckled.

"You want me to take care of Aya?" 

"If it's not too much to ask," I muttered, stomach flipping in all sorts of directions.

"Nah, it's fine. She's an angel," Jack countered. 

"You know... she likes to eat junk food, but don't give her too much because her stomach will hurt. Don't give her whole milk either. Make sure she eats fruit or anything really. She-"

"Mark, I know! Don't stress about it so much. You'll hurt yourself," he huffed. 

"I'm trusting you with the entirety of my life," I responded. Of course, I was going to feel nervous. What did he expect?

"And I'll take care of her as if she were my own. For real though, I more than likely can't be as good a father as you," he warned. I would have thanked him if I would have thought the words to be true, but I was not as good a father as I would like to be.

"Well then, I'm off."

"Good luck! Have fun!" I managed to hear as I ran out of the door before I overthought something. 

Luckily, the coffee shop was a few blocks away from the hotel we were staying in. If I hurried a little, I could make it in about ten minutes. Even though the time was the least, I still wanted to be somewhat punctual. Barricades of repressing memories crash under the weight of my feet when I took some time to look somewhere besides my feet, and the warm embrace of the Cincinnati I knew welcomed me home. It was a trip down memory lane, as many would say.

My heart thrashed within my ribcage; the vintage sign made its way into my view. My steps became heavier and my pace slower. They were simple reminders of what was to come and of the ache that seemed to perpetually dwell within the caverns of my mind—the yearning for the arms of someone that I knew would love me. 

"Mark!" My name chimed loudly yet lovingly into my ears. My hands flew from beside me to cover my face, only catching a glimpse of Tom's figure as he ran toward me. The cloud of Axe "douchebag" spray that enveloped me the same way his arms did was a new solace to me. The heat of warm tears seeped into my flannel; and with that, the waterworks erupted and sent my body into a frenzy of shakes and quivers. 

"I missed you so much," I sobbed, clutching at the back of his shirt in fear that if I were to let him go he would never return to me. Regardless, he stepped back and smiled. 

"Of course you did," Tom sniffled, ruffling my hair before randomly pinching me. 

"Ow!" I cried, rubbing the side of my face. 

"That's for leaving so suddenly!" He exclaimed and pinched me again.

"I said 'ow!'" I cried.

"That's for worrying us so much," he grits his teeth. He lifted his hand again, and I flinched, but this was not what I thought it was. He hugged me tighter than before and kissed the side of my face.

"This is because I missed you too," he mumbled, taking my hand and dragging me into the coffee shop.   
A comfortable silence kept me from weeping even more than I already was. We ordered what we usually would on days we'd hang out. It was almost just like the old days. 

Almost. Those days would never come to repeat themselves again. 

I was technically still in a relationship with Lauren. I had a daughter. I'd been through some things. No matter how much I tried, I was not the Mark that Tom once knew and loved. I was merely disguised as myself now that I was sitting in front of him. That was the sad reality of the situation. Mark was still Mark but not the same Mark. Mark would never be the same as the old Mark. I was Mark yet I not. 

But it wasn't all bad. Aya was the light of my eyes; she taught me just how deeply one can love another human—to the point where your life no longer matters if they are not in it you'd sell your soul to the devil for their health and happiness. 

"So why didn't you bring your boyfriend? I thought he was coming with you," Tom joked, raising an eyebrow at me.

"He's not my boyfriend," I sighed 

"He stayed at the hotel taking care of A-... some of his appointments. For photography. He's a photographer," I stammered. 

"That's cool," he commented, "maybe we can take some pictures together."

Nothing complex was spoken in that sentence. There was nothing literally philosophical about what he had said, yet an epiphany was inevitable for me. Tom had changed too. He was still salty and sarcastic to a fault; he had many of the same habits I'd remembered. He was equally as human as I was. That was painful. I didn't want to think that only a shell of what Tom used to be was talking to me. Perhaps he wished for the same; but regardless of what I desired, Tom was also exposed to many cruelties in life. He was just as susceptible to change as I was. 

"Yea, he will definitely do that for us," I grinned. Jack would be ecstatic to take photos while we weren't looking—out of anywhere—like some photography ninja. 

"So, how has life been in California?" He asked and took a sip of the coffee sitting in from of him. 

"It's been," I paused, trying to think of something not blatantly depressing, "different."

"No shit. I would have never thought," Tom rolled his eyes, shaking his head in disapproval of my vagueness. 

"You left with Lauren, didn't you?" He asked. He knew the answer; he wouldn't have asked the question otherwise. It didn't surprise me that he knew, for he wasn't an idiot, but I was still alarmed by the deadpan look in his eyes. I didn't say anything. I nodded. 

"At least she's a nice person," he shrugged. He wasn't wrong. Lauren was a good person at one point; she was a marvelous human being. She was a model student, citizen, and employee. I guess anyone can get tired of being with one person for a long time. Time does things to people; I can get very annoying.

"Yea, she is," I agreed, sipping on my coffee for the first time. 

"I didn't know that she had family in Los Angeles though," he mentioned. 

"She doesn't. We lived with her aunt in Stockton for a while; then, we moved to Los Angeles," I decided to still remain laconic with my answers. It was easier for me that way. 

"When did you leave her?" He continued his interrogation.

"Some time ago," I muttered. 

"Why did you leave?"

"People just fall out like loose fitting puzzle pieces. They fit perfectly until the surface changes. Then you realize that it's pretty quixotic," I spoke with my innermost feelings, stirring my coffee with a little straw. I guess he deserves some of the whole truth. 

"That sucks, but it's her loss anyway! You are a great catch!" He waved his hand around sassily, just like we did when we were in high school. I couldn't help but laugh; however, I couldn't identify what I was laughing at. Was I laughing at his gestures or at the idea of me being a good catch? Both? Perhaps.

"Sure I am," I amusedly exhaled, rolling my eyes with a wide smile. My inner turmoil really was silly. 

"You really are," Tom croaked before clearing his throat, "I wish you could see that."

The absence of conversation was enough to make me fidget in my seat. The silence was something to beware when it came from Tom. These moments were dangerous because that's when I knew that he was going deep into thought; he was judging me. Maybe not harshly but judgments were being made. I was being sentenced. 

"You wanna just ride around town? Remember good times?" He suggested.

"Sure, why not?" I was up for good times.

"Let's go then. My car's outside," he chirped as he hopped out of his chair, indirectly urging me to follow suit. 

Most of the things we saw were just as I'd remembered them. The mall had changed significantly, stores had gone out of business, and familiar locations had revamped noticeably. We stopped to look around in random places; I was convinced that Tom and I were high off of the candles we snorted. The sensation of traveling back in time was injected further into my system with every place we visited. However, shaking the feeling of being a foreigner in this place was impossible. There was no way around it. 

"It's getting late, Mark," Tom sighed. Lethargically, his eyes wandered into a void. He parked outside a liquor store and left me in the car alone. I wasn't sure why we were here; obviously, he was here to buy liquor. But why?

It wasn't long before Tom was back in the car with a paper bag in hand. He took out two shot glasses and a bottle of tequila. He set both of the glasses on the dashboard while I silently watched him. I wasn't sure if I should tell him that I didn't drink anymore, or that the thought of alcohol being this close to me made my heart sink. 

I decided not to say anything. It was just me being silly, after all.

"Here," he offered, "let's just drink this, so I can take you to your hotel."

"The whole bottle?!" I screeched.

"Are you insane?! We'll die if we did that, Mark," he laughed, handing me the shot of alcohol.

"For you. And for the possibility of doing this again," he cheered.

"For us," I corrected, "for the new us."

"Yea! For the new us!" He exclaimed and tapped his glass against mine.

I closed my eyes and washed down the taste of my incapacity alongside the tequila. It was tortuously strong; it set my throat ablaze. It clawed down my esophagus until it thundered into the pit of my stomach. It tasted horrible, but the alcohol wasn't bad though. 

"Alright, I'll take you to your hotel. Your boyfriend must miss you," Tom joked. I refused to spend more energy on correcting him. I let him be. 

We made it to the hotel quickly,  and I was ready to bolt into the hotel to see how Aya was doing, but the door was still locked. 

"I'll come pick you and your friend up at around three tomorrow, so be ready by then," he warned, unlocking the door.

"I like your shirt, by the way. It suits you," he commented before driving off into the distance. 

A wide grin rose onto my face as I whispered a 'thank you' to myself. I hurried to the room we were staying and knocked vigorously for Jack to open the door. As it did, I was blinded by a flash of light from the other side. I rubbed my eyes, trying to recuperate my ability to see before reprimanding him.

Suddenly, I heard him chuckle. All was forgotten. 

"Welcome back, Mark," he chimed, "we missed you."

"How was Aya?"

"She was a little scared, at first, because she didn't see you. She'd ask about you all the time. She's asleep now though. She was pretty good," Jack reported. I found it endearing that she missed me. I'd be lying if I said that I didn't miss her too.

"I'm glad she didn't cause you any trouble," I giggled. I was tired. That one shot was making me sleepy, and I was alright with it. I yawned. 

"We should go to bed. We have a party to crash tomorrow," he declared.

"Yea. We do," I affirmed lazily. I thought of all that Tom and I didn't, and I couldn't help but wish that Jack and Aya were there too.

"Maybe we can hang out here sometime," I blurted. Was I asking him on a date or something? Was I seventeen now?

"That would be awesome, actually," he cooed, goofily smiling his way to his bed. 

I decided against making the situation more awkward for me, so I also went to greet the comfort of sleep. 

"Goodnight, Mark."

"Goodnight, Jack."

It was a good night, indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Please leave me your feedback, comments, and/or kudos to let me know how I'm doing.


	14. Like Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know how to write angst, so here you go. I know it must be really surprising for you that I'm updating this early, but not everything is bad. On the other hand, I hope you enjoy!

The color drained from my face as soon as I saw the clock; hours passed like lightning, and it was three-fifteen. Jack, Aya, and I were waiting patiently for Tom to come into view from the hotel lobby. My nerves twisted my stomach to its full capacity; nausea reveled in my system. Anxiety was the most real thing to me.

"How about you give your brother a call and tell him to give you the address," Jack suggested, clearly acknowledging my nervous pacing around the sitting area. 

"Tom would rather kill me before letting me ride a taxi to his house," I snapped. My head was going to explode from all the pent up emotions and stress. I felt so bad for the way I was acting, but I didn't know what else to do. Crying was not much of an option for me; I was going to die of dehydration today if it was. 

"Who ever said we were going in a taxi?" Jack rebutted. I was glad that my mood was not getting to him, from what I could tell. He seemed to understand what was taking place in my head or tried to understand. 

"There's a car rental place around the corner. I saw it when we were on our way here from the airport," he elaborated, seeing my puzzled expression. 

I just had to call Tom and give an excuse as to why we decided to not ride with him. What was I supposed to say? I just got up? Jack's not ready? I have a daughter that I have no idea how you'll react to? None of them made sense, and none were believable. Despite not being prepared to make the phone call, I made it. Each ring made my heart tremor; a heart attack at that point in my life was nearly inevitable, but Tom picked up the phone. 

"Hello?" He answered.

"Hey, Tom. It's me. Mark." I spoke slowly to steady my voice. 

"Oh, hey. Why are yo- Oh God! It's passed three!" He exclaimed, "I can't believe I let time get up on my like that!"

"Yea, I can't either," I agreed honestly, though my sarcastic tone made it sound otherwise.

"Speaking of picking me up, Jack wants to rent a car instead," I inserted before he had time to retaliate. 

"Why? I have no problem with picking you guys up," he replied, disappointment more than evident in his tone. I grimaced. The pain of hearing his voice carry that sound was killing me. Luckily, Jack stole the phone.

"I've heard loads of things about the life in Cincinnati. Picture worthy places are everywhere, and I can't miss them on my life!" Jack bubbled. It was scary to think about whether he was faking that excitement or not; I was sure he was. 

"I can just take you guys-"

"Mark needs a fuckin' scapegoat," he deadpanned. My jaw dropped as the line became silent on both ends. Jack's face was devoid of any emotion except for a flash of hurt that flickered in his eyes. He'd been through this before?

"I can-"

"You can't!" He interrupted, "There is no guarantee that people'll just open their arms to him; and if Mark needs to leave, we'll need to leave as soon as possible!"

"But I can take you." Tom insisted.

"Don't take offense to this, but I don't think you can," Jack spat. In any other situation, I would have nagged the living out of him; but he was right. Tom wouldn't have the heart to leave if it meant having my mother's disapproval.

"Why wouldn't I?" Tom challenged. I accepted. 

"Because you just can't Tom!" I barked, snatching my phone. It was Jack's turn to be surprised, but it tore me to pieces to speak this way.

"How about this," I continued, "We rent the car, and Jack drops me off; Jack can go take some pictures at the park nearby. If something happens, I'll call Jack just for the sake of him knowing we're heading back. Sound fair?"

"Fair enough," he sighed, "I'll send the address." 

He hung up without one more word to be said. Regardless of his current mood, he sent the address almost immediately. Jack didn't hesitate to run to the rental place as I went back to the room to fix Aya's hair—which she managed to mess up in a fraction of a second.

Luckily, doing Aya's hair was something that brought me tranquility. I let the smooth strands of her hair run through my fingers and felt as some of my anxiety was grazed off of my body. I was lost in the feeling of her soft hair when Jack made it to the hotel and was waiting for me outside, so I took Aya's hand as we walked outside and stepped into the car. 

The ride there was not long at all; it was about twenty minutes away. Thundering in my chest, my heart throbbed at the site of the numbers that were sent to me in the text message. I took the last peaceful breaths that I could before the unknown consumed me. 

"Whenever I call you," I began, "come get me."

"I thought Tom was going to take you," he stated.

"He won't," I breathed. At least, I highly doubted that he would. 

"Ok, I'll be here when you need me," he affirmed.

"Let's go, Baby," I called for Aya. She wasn't as nervous as I was. If anything her soul was full of glee at the idea of meeting some family. 

The wooden door was open, so I just had to walk in—that easy—just walk in. I clutched Aya's hand as I walked up the driveway, feeling as the seconds struck on my heartstrings. This is the most anxious I'd ever been; I wanted to die so badly.

"Stay behind me okay," I told Aya. She pouted but nodded as a sign that my order was understood.

I opened the door and tread into this place that was so unfamiliar to me on many levels. No one seemed to notice that I opened the door; somehow, that was even worse than what I thought it would feel like. I measured the steps to make it at the end of the hallway as slowly as possible, but it wasn't slow enough. As soon as I made it to the end of the hallway, shattering glass greeted my arrival. 

"What is this?" The long lost voice of my mother warped its way into ears. I didn't have the strength to say anything. I reached my hand behind my back and patted Aya's head, only still would matters not get worse. 

"It's Mark, I invited him," Tom muttered, much different than his demeanor when he was alone.

"Where do you think you've been?" She screamed in her fragmented English. A scream for joy was not what this was.

"Why did you come?" She continued seething. My essence was crippling. 

"I said that I invited him, Mom," Tom declared.

"Why did you invite him? He's not family anymore! A family doesn't just leave without saying anything. We weren't his family for four years! Why should he be family now?" My mother ranted, jabbing at every single one of my nerves. I knew she was right and that I messed up, but a family was supposed to be something beyond that.

"M-my intention was never to hurt anyone," I stuttered. I could have easily broken into an ocean of tears, but I wasn't going to give my mom that joy.

"I don't care about your intentions. Get out!" She hollered, her faced red with fury. 

"He's not going anywhere," Tom faltered.

"How can you be so cruel to your own son?" I questioned.

"You stopped being my son the moment that you walked out of my house! You can go out on the street and die because the only son I have is Thomas," she hissed. 

"I'll take that in mind," I snapped. 

"Mom, you're being really harsh on him! You don't even know what happened," Tom tried to defend me to the best of his abilities, but I knew my mother wouldn't care. She was stubborn. 

"How else do I tell you that I don't care. Kick him out, Thomas! This stupid sack of crap is nothing to you!" She stressed. My soul was leaving my body; I was sure of it. 

"You're the stupid one! Stupid old lady!" Aya stomped around me. I could have sworn that I was going to perish in that moment. It was too late to pull her back now. Her presence was known. 

"My daddy told me that you were a nice grandma, but that's not true. You're mean, and I don't like you. You're just like mommy!" Aya nagged. I wasn't sure whether to be terrified or embarrassed, but I was both. The mentioning of Lauren was also a huge punch in the gut. 

"So you have a kid?" Tom asked, more shocked than genuinely curious.

"Yea, I do. Her name is Aya," I proudly stated, almost living for my mother's surprised reaction. 

Suddenly, her face contorted into something out of a horror film. She stormed her way from behind the broken glass with Aya clearly being in her line of fire. In the blink of an eye, her hand was so tightly wrapped around Aya's wrist that I thought she might break it. 

"Ow!" Aya complained, tears welling in her eyes. 

I felt my sanity burst; my mind turned for the hellish. I was ready to kill. Without a second thought toward what I was doing, I pushed my mother away. Stumbling backward she fell onto a piece of glass, slicing open the palm of your hand. She sat there in shock and anger, glaring at me like I had committed the worst of crimes. 

"And you still want me to love you? When you hurt your mother?" My lady who birthed me taunted as if there was any substance to her questions. 

"I thought I wasn't your son," I cackled, "therefore, you're not my mother."

"Besides, you're right," I continued, "sharing blood makes you a relative, but love and loyalty are what makes you family."

"You ever lay a hand on my daughter in that manner again, I swear on my life that you'll regret it." I took out the phone from my pocket. I dialed Jack, but I didn't put the phone up to my ear.

"Thomas! Get him out of here! Look what he did to me!" My mother held out her bloody hand.

"Mark... I-"

"I know, Tom," I chuckled, "'not today' right?"

The expression of pain was plastered all over his face. I couldn't care less.

"Mom, he's not going anywhere unless he wants to," Tom murmured. I felt a wide grin stretch on my face. 

"Thomas!" My mother gasped. 

"You're wrong. Mom. Mark doesn't deserve this. Don't you see that he left so he wouldn't disappoint you! He didn't want you to be embarrassed of him! He didn't want you to be ashamed, and this is how you repay him! I'm sorry, Mom. You're just not right," Tom rambled.

A moment of silence was given for my mother's dead arguments. Although what she was saying was hurtful, I knew the way she worked. She needed to get everything out of her system in order to function properly. Surely, Tom's rebellion would make her reflect on her own feelings. I wasn't bitter toward my mother because I knew she was just as pained as I was. I felt my phone vibrate, and I that was my cue to get going.

"We're leaving now, Aya," I took her hand and walked over to my mother, who was still stunned on the floor. I stared at her for a while, seeing as her emotions had also been playing her like an old rag doll.

"Say goodbye to Uncle Thomas," I let her go so she could hug her uncle. Thomas pinched her cheeks, and Aya complained, rubbing them.

"Now say sorry and goodbye to Grandma," I commanded. Aya couldn't believe her ears, neither could my mother. I urged her on; and reluctantly, she obeyed. She warily walked up to her grandmother, averting eye contact as much as possible. 

"I'm sorry I called you mean and old lady and that I yelled at you, Grandma," She mumbled, kicking random pieces of glass. Cautiously, she stepped closer to my mom before trusting fate and embracing her.

"I always wanted a grandma," I heard Aya whisper-yell into her ear. She let go and ran to my side, hugging my leg.

"I love you, Mom," I soothed her oncoming tears.

"Mark, you don't have to go," Tom stammered, "my daughter isn't here yet. We were just setting things up."

"Nah, Jack's waiting for me outside," I declined.

"Hopefully, I'll see you later?" I asked my mom, who didn't move her eyes away from Aya. I wasn't going to think about it, so I pranced out of the house, and let the stinging relief take over my body once I was in the car with Jack.

"How did it go?" Jack promptly asked.

"Like shit," I retorted, "but shit gets cleaned up, eventually."

"Can't disagree with ya there," he smirked and rubbed my shoulder, stepping on the gas so we could head back to the hotel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked what you read! Leave me your feedback, comments, and kudos to let me know how I'm doing.
> 
> If I were to write/publish, would you be opposed to reading it or...? I don't know why asking really.


	15. Sweet Lauren White

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter may be triggering for some. Please proceed at your own discretion.

We were almost to our destination when Jack had the genius idea of sightseeing. In any other occasion, I would gladly follow suit without a single question in mind. However, I would be lying if I said that the confrontation with my mother didn't emotionally drain me. Sure I did and said many things that were bravely uncharacteristic of me at this point in my life, but the longer I sat here the deeper this pit of anguish became. The woman that brought me into this world absolutely despised me. The temporary beauty around me was seen as nothing but decay—nothing but death.

"You need some kind of distraction, Mark," Jack muttered into the ice that had undoubtedly formed among us. 

I agreed with him completely. There was no way I wouldn't explode if I didn't take my mind off of what had happened. However, there was something that I wanted out of the way—the sooner, the better. I needed all of these feelings out of my chest. I yearned for a fraction of peace to dwell in my mind. I couldn't keep this in and just go out to attempt to enjoy a life that clearly didn't want to enjoy anything. 

"Yea," I croaked, "I want to go somewhere really quick. Do you think you can take me?" It wouldn't matter whether or not he agreed; I would find a way to do what I must. I prayed that I didn't have to put in more effort than I had to.

"I guess, just give me the address so I can put it on the GPS." The words left him with an air of concern that I could feel on my aching soul. I abhorred this weakness of mine—the ability to feel the emotions of others—hypersensitivity.

"Is this a friend's house?" He asked curiously. 

"Unfortunately, no." I wished I could remember where my friends lived. It would mean the world to me if they still remembered who I was. I would make my heart burst with glee if they missed me as much as Thomas said they did.

"Where are we going then?" Jack questioned. Unless I told him where we were heading, I knew speaking to him would be a waste of breath. I didn't want to do this alone though. I needed Jack to come with me, to be with me physically, for when I fought the battle I was getting ready for.

"If nothing changed from when I was younger, Aya's grandparents," I answered. The brakes were immediately slammed; my body would have catapulted out of the windshield if it weren't for my seatbelt. 

"What is wrong with you?!" He screamed, and I sat there in shock. Was he talking to me? Was he talking to someone on the road?

"Why do you do this to yourself?" Jack choked, gripping the steering wheel like it was the last of his sanity. 

"I don't understand what you're trying to-"

"What I'm trying to say is that you willingly and deliberately search for situations that will tear you to shreds. Why?" He looked so afflicted as if there was something in me that reminded him of a former self. 

"Who told you this was a bad situation?" I refuted.

"I don't think you'd be pale and shaking if it was a good one." He spat.

"Because you heal faster," I whispered.

"What?"

"It's like ripping off a bandage. The sooner you get the thing off, the shorter the pain lasts." I thought aloud. I knew nothing about healing. What would a shell of a man know about recovery?

"I don't think this will be as easy as taking off a fucking piece of adhesive," Jack huffed before chuckling dryly.

"You might need a few of this after this though."

"It'll be fine. . . I hope." I twisted my thumbs, feeling as the car came to a gentler stop. I hadn't even realized that we had started moving at some point. 

"Seems like we're not wasting too much gas," He joked, opening the door but not parking the car. My heart writhed under the skin of my throat, threatening to make me vomit my insecurities if I even attempted to say a word. The question I so desperately ached to ask tasted foul on my tongue. 

"You should come with us, Jack," Aya blurted emotionlessly from the back seat. The notion of meeting yet another stranger didn't excite her. 

"I don't think your dad-"

"You should," I interrupted, feeling my face try to express the many emotions I couldn't convey in words. Jack stared at me, and I did the same. No more words were exchanged. He turned off the car, took off his seatbelt, and opened the door to step out. I unbuckled Aya and followed suit, hiding her behind me much like I had earlier. I shakily rang the doorbell, waiting anxiously for the fire in my veins to ease or blister me. 

The door opened. It's hinged melodically creaked. The door dug into the carpet beneath it, yet the lines it made weren't harsh. 

"How may I help you?" A middle-aged woman with a hauntingly familiar face greeted us. This is what I came for. I was about to speak, or at least I think I was going to when her arms entrapped the entirety of my frame.

"My dear, I haven't seen you in a while," she cooed. I was terrified. I could have sworn that this was a wicked dream if it weren't for how much it hurt to breathe. 

"Mrs. White," I spoke. It was the only thing I could say. The rest of my mind was blank.

"Oh, just Miriam is fine. Come in, Mark," she chirped, nearly hopping into her home. Without any hesitation, my body moved to follow her command. It was unsettling how nice she was being; I could assure anyone that she detested me last time I saw her.

"Do tell me, how my Lauren is doing," Miriam nestled herself into a solo couch, freezing once she made eye contact with Aya.

"My word," she gasped, " Is she?"

"Her name is Aya," I responded, "she's three years old."

"Say 'hello' to your grandma," I coaxed Aya forward, blindly trusting the woman that showed me affection. Aya did the same, running to Miriam and hugging her much tighter than she'd hugged my mom. 

"I just knew it," she squealed, "her eyes are just like Lauren's." I thought the same.

"She looks like a clone of Mark," Jack was a little confused. To him, every inch of Aya looked like me—including her mono-lid. 

"Oh no Dear, those eyes are definitely Lauren's," Miriam giggled and I nodded, letting a smile spread carelessly across my features. 

"So, how is Lauren?" Her face fell and so did mine. I didn't know where to start. I didn't want Aya to hear any of it.

"Want to watch TV, Aya?" I asked and sighed in relief when she nodded vigorously.

"I'll be right back," I excused myself and took Aya upstairs, where Lauren's room was. It was just as it used to be when we were in high school. 

I would come over to do projects, hang out, enjoy her company. We would sit on her bed, door wide open, and talk about a life where I was an engineer and she was a cosmetic surgeon. The passing of time treated us kindly in the safety of her room, as the moments of silence only fortified the bond we'd built. We had to obstacles; the world was ours. . . 

. . . until I got her pregnant. 

In the blink of an eye, the dreams we'd once breathed to survive became noxious. Time no longer embraced us, for it only served to remind us of the feeble ties we held with the earth we lived in. Aya was a catalyst for the disaster that struck us, but I didn't blame her. She was the least responsible for the fallout. It was me. It was my fault. 

I couldn't keep a job to save my life. Many places didn't want to hire people who didn't have any experience or a college degree. I'd somehow managed to get fired from every fast food chain in Los Angeles. She was the only one with the ability to keep us alive; it was too much pressure. Bearing the weight of our child plus that of her boyfriend couldn't be easy in the slightest. 

Once Aya was born, the burden only increased. Friends at work had convinced Lauren to go out drinking with them. She came back drunk that day. And the next. And the next. It became a miracle whenever she would come home sober, but that was because she would invite friends over to drink. 

Counted were the nights in which she didn't curse me for crossing paths. It was her obligation to remind me of the failure that I was—that I am. I never held it against her. I deserved it. I had plenty of scars on my scalp from when I'd try to lead her to bed and she'd break a bottle on my head. It was her favorite way of disposing of the empty bottles—shattering them with my skull and watching me pick up the pieces as my blood mingled with the shards. 

That was alright with me. I did it because she loved me once, and I loved her still. Because she held the light of my eyes, she was the rocky path to take to happiness. I knew her feelings for me changed, but they were there. I was willing to stay. I was willing to lay my life for this idea if it was necessary. However, there was a personal line in the sand that I would not let anyone cross; and that was the line guarding Aya. 

Aya was sick the day we left. She was running a fever; her stomach rejected anything that entered her body. I didn't have enough money to take her to a doctor; so as soon as sleep took a hold of her, I dashed to the nearest pharmacy. It was late at night; Aya was alone. I was only out for a few minutes, though it felt like centuries; but Lauren had arrived. I was prepared to see her splayed out on the floor or waiting to ambush me in the living room. That wasn't so. 

Aya's cries were audible from the other side of the door. My fingers never moved so fast; my heart never hammered so strong. Once I burst through the door and flew down the hallway, a living nightmare was displayed before me. A small streak of crimson slowly streamed from the fair skin of her face. Her eyes were wide and pleading while Lauren's hands did whatever possible to hinder her breathing. 

Panic rose as I tried to find a way to free Aya without physically hurting Lauren. I pried her hands off Aya's throat with the strength only given to me in moments of desperation. I dragged Lauren to her room, and she fell asleep as soon as her pillow made contact with her face. 

I look no time to think. I grabbed my duffle bag and some of Aya's belongings and hurried Aya out of the house. I carried Aya, bolting in a random direction like I was racing the rising sun as well as Lauren's awakening. It wasn't like Lauren would care about the lack of our presence, she could bring as many 'playmates' as she wanted now, but I wanted to be as far as humanly possible. 

But it wasn't Lauren's fault. 

It was mine.

I could have done better. I could have done so much better. 

"Mark, did you find the remote," Miriam asked as she tip toed across the hallway. I flinched at the sudden waves of sound, realizing that I hadn't passed the threshold of Lauren's room. Aya waited patiently on the bed, swinging her feet and marveling at the bedroom walls. 

Miriam handed me a tissue. I was puzzled until I felt the urge to sniffle; crying was much easier for me than breathing.

"Wait for me downstairs, Hun," she whispered, patting my back with every fiber of sympathy she possessed. I did so, crashing straight into Jack at the last step of the stairs. I looked up at him, jaw still trembling, and sobbed. I couldn't understand how sadistic life was and why it took so much pleasure in ripping me to pieces. 

"You'll be okay, Mark," Jack attempted to assure me. I would have loved to say that I believed him or that I knew that things could only get better, but the truth was that I didn't. The only thing I knew was that Aya needed me, but I needed her more than I needed life itself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading and for waiting for these updates. I am very emotionally invested in this story, but I have lost track of where I wanted this story at first. However, I will work on this story until it's complete. I honestly think you all are going to hate me at the end of this. . . for no particular reason.  
> *cue maniacal laughter and sadistic/masochistic tendencies*
> 
> Leave me your feedback, comments, and kudos so that I know how I'm doing. I appreciate you all so much for reading my work.
> 
> I've been craving Aya art...so bad. I hate the fact that I can't draw.


	16. Truth Be Told

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Won't you look at that? An asshole has appeared. Look who came out of her mountain of college assignment! This bitch! Anyway, don't expect consistency. You know better at this point. I'm consistently inconsistent. However, I hope you guys can enjoy!!!

Miriam took her time trying to find something on TV that would keep Aya entertained, and I was grateful for that. In a few minutes, my lips stopped quivering and strength finally returned to my arms and legs; but I didn't want to feel the biting chill that awaited me outside of Jack's arms. His warmth was soothing and appreciated from the core of my heart.

I grimaced, squeezing my eyes shut. The ache of an ever-deepening dependence enshrouding every thought of security and comfort I had. Relying on a person this much was dangerous—foolish even, so I gently held his arms in my hands and tried to ease them off my shoulders. Rapidly, Jack constricted his arms around my chest before they could fall at his sides. The crushing force impeded any movement from my upper body, with the exception of my head. 

"Do you miss her?" I froze. Jack's question was legitimate; however, there was something in his tone of voice that made my chest sore. 

"Miss who?" I responded, knowing exactly what he was talking about but refusing to acknowledge it until he said something himself. 

"Her. . . Lauren," he muttered. He seemed to tense at the mere thought of having to pronounce her name; I could understand that feeling, but why would it be hard for him of all people? He didn't know Lauren like I did. Then again, maybe that wasn't the reason he was tense to begin with. 

"Yea," I whispered instinctively and a piece of my soul felt like it was being chipped away. I miss her. I missed her. But did I really? 

I looked up at Jack only to feel another piece of me be chucked into nothingness. It was painfully confusing the way his face contorted in disbelief. A sea of emotion crashing tumultuously in his eyes harbored the most unadulterated anguish I'd ever seen coming from him. I couldn't understand it—why he was so hurt. It was because of me.

Just like everything else.

I fought the incessant tremors trying to hinder me from moving my arms. Why was I trembling? Why was my heart beating so fast? I mentally shook the questions away as I felt my mind turning the rusting gears in my joints until my arms were wrapped around whatever piece of Jack I could hold. I let my head fall forward onto Jack's chest. Was this his heartbeat or mine? They seemed to be the same. Was my heart really beating that fast? Was HIS heart really beating that fast? I couldn't tell. 

"I'm not Lauren," he dryly commented, loosening his vice grip. I didn't know what to say or what to do so he wouldn't leave. I didn't know so many things, but one was for certain.

"I know," breathed, barely able to hear myself; but Jack caught wind of my words, gulping down what I hoped was just his nerves. 

"I miss who she used to be. . . the Lauren that I knew," I spoke into his chest, afraid of looking up and finding myself alone again. 

"The one that loved you?" Jack stole the words I didn't have the courage to voice. They were heavy against my heart. "Loved," as in, she didn't love me now—past tense. Why was that so hard to accept?

I nodded wordlessly; there was nothing I could say without bursting into tears again, not like it mattered at this point. I was convinced that my body consisted of nothing other than sore muscles, brittle bones, and salty tears; but Jack's hand petting my hair eased my discomfort. 

"Ahem," Miriam cleared her throat, making my jump away from Jack and shuffle my way off the stairs. She didn't seem to be bothered with our proximity though; she just wanted to be able to walk down the stairs. 

"Sit down, Mark," she signaled to the couch. "Jack," she pointed at the stop beside me with her nose. I couldn't stop my blood from traveling to my ears, but I could control my face from looking like a deer caught in headlights. Miriam took a deep breath before sighing; that's when I knew that the conversation we were about to have was going to be an emotionally taxing one. It was written all over her face. 

"Where's Lauren?" Miriam asked bluntly, her face drying into a solid block of seriousness. 

"I don't know," I answered honestly. After I'd ran off with Aya, I had no idea what had been of Lauren; there was no way I could. I was aware that she was a danger to Aya; and as such, I tried to avoid any possibility of running into her. Even coming to this house could have been a bad idea if it weren't for me knowing that Lauren was afraid of her mom after she got pregnant. 

"Why didn't you talk to any of us?" Miriam choked. "We would have understood. Why did you two have to leave?"

"She was afraid. She'd painted you as uptight, conservative parents. She was convinced you would kick her out anyway," I explained. The reverie I had outside of Lauren's room prepared me for these questions. It was much easier to respond than I initially thought. 

Miriam bit her lip, shaking her head in denial; I recognized that gesture. Lauren did it all the time. 

"You never answered my question," she reminded me. "How is Lauren?" 

"Different." It was the most accurate word I could think of. I didn't know if she was okay. More than likely, she was trying to find relief at the bottom of a bottle of vodka because I didn't have the ability to do so. I was her stressor. 

"How bad?" Miriam's voice shook. It was time for the magic to happen—the time to rip off the Band-Aid from the gash in my peace of mind as a result of my silence. 

"She tried to kill Aya," I attested her worse nightmare. The shock that made her eyes bulge, I felt it. It was a hard and bitter pill to swallow; it stuck to the throat, leaving its nasty aftertaste as proof of its existence. I knew exactly what she felt right now. 

"She-she wouldn't! Lauren, she's incapable of doing something like that. She's-"

"She's changed!" I shouted; and in that moment, the curtain over my eyes was yanked away. She'd changed. I'd known this; I'd always known this. However, the gravity of the word had never settled on me the way it did now.

Change. Her actions changed. Her values changed. Her feelings changed. 

"She's not the Lauren you raised, Mrs. White," I added, still lost in thought, "You wouldn't recognize her. . . not even if your life depended on it—not even because you're her mother."

"Who changed, Daddy?" Aya peeked from around the stairway. 

"Come here," I waved my hand, cupping her face once she was within arm span. "Wanna show grandma your cool scar?" I faked enthusiasm. 

I remembered when Aya first saw her scar in the mirror; she was crying uncontrollably and rambling about how ugly she was because of it. It was only half an inch long, and it was right against her hairline. No one would really notice it unless they were deliberately looking for it, but she felt hideous. I spent hours convincing her that there was nothing wrong with her; she didn't calm down until I showed her the scars I had on my abdomen from after my surgeries. In fact, her face brightened instantly at the thought of having "cool" scars like her daddy. 

"Yea! Grandma! I have a scar! Look! Isn't it cool?!" Aya hollered excitedly, running toward Miriam and lifting her hair so she could catch a glimpse of it. Miriam smiled sadly, running her finger over the light stripe of flesh on Aya's forehead. 

"Where'd you get that cool scar from?" She inquired, playing along with my act. 

"Mommy did it on accident, but it's okay. She's sick. Daddy says she'll get better one day, but I don't think she takes her medicine. She always feels bad and yells at me for making her macaroni pictures. Does mommy hate macaroni, Daddy?" Aya squints her eyes at me, and I pat her head. 

"Mommy loves macaroni, Baby," I run my fingers through her hair. "She's just hurting. That's all."

I turned to look at Miriam and she sighed as she'd done before. This time, she rubbed her eyes before giving me an apologetic smile. 

"Do I hear Paw Patrol?" I gasp and Aya snaps her neck in the direction of the room. She forgets all about displaying her scar scurries away to watch the TV again. 

I give Miriam a moment to process all that happened, fully aware that this kind of information doesn't sit comfortably on any aspect of oneself. I turned to look at Jack, in a way, checking if he was still alive. He looked oddly relieved, the storm in his eyes having calmed completely, offering the strange warmth that was unique to his ice-cold eyes. 

"Miriam," I broke the silence, turning back around to give my full attention to her, "your Lauren. . . our Lauren. She needs help." 

"Of course," she agreed, standing up and heading toward me with slow, wary steps. I met her halfway, ready to accept whatever Miriam was going to throw at me. Her arms welcomed me as they had when I entered her home, and my muscles relaxed into the maternal affection.

"Thank you, Mark," she sobbed into my shoulder, gripping the sides of my shirt. "Thank you for caring so much about Lauren."

I awkwardly patted her back, not sure what I was supposed to do. I was never placed into this kind of situation before. Was I supposed to say something? 'Alright' sounded too obnoxious. 'You're welcome' sounded like I was doing her a huge favor. I just opted for what I did best, just giving awkward hugs.

I eyeballed Jack, visibly manifesting how weird I felt. He relished in my social misery, trying to hold back his laughter as best he could. He was going to pay for that eventually; I would make sure of it. 

"Oh my, what an eventful day we've had," Miriam pondered as she let me go. I nodded. All of my social strength gone completely out of the window; I'd exerted myself too much. I must have sprained vocal chords.

"Aya, we're leaving now!" Jack called, startling me with his unnaturally loud voice. Miriam laughed, smile lines suggesting she'd lived a jovial life. That was a relief. Now that I think about it, I'd never seen her truly upset until today. 

As Aya carefully made her way down the stairs, Miriam crept beside me. She pulled my ear, bringing it down to her level before speaking.

"So, about you and that Irish boy," she started, and I could feel my face heat up again. Goddammit. "He's more than just your friend, isn't he?"

I shook my head vigorously, feeling as my brain crashed between the walls of my skull. 

"You can't hide from these eyes," she chuckled. "I may be old; but I'm certainly not out of touch just yet, Dear." 

She let go of my ear, but she didn't let me go far before she gave me a firm smack between my shoulder blades. This lady was something else. 

"Tell Mr. White I said hi," I murmured, earning a wider grin. 

"I sure will," she chirped. "After some explaining, of course," she added. 

Aya ran down the last few steps and hopped up and down singing a song that was more than likely on the show she was watching. 

"Bye-bye, Grandma," she hugged Miriam, running out the door as soon as her mission was accomplished. 

"Come by any day you'd like, Mark," she affirmed. "And you too, young man," she gestured toward Jack. Unlike me, he knew how to act in those situations. He gave a bright smile and excused himself, and I followed suit. I breathed a sigh of relief, feeling my entire body expand back into shape. 

"That was something," Jack commented from behind me. I wanted to bask in this feeling, this release. My daughter was singing and dancing around the car, not giving a care about anything else but the present. Jack was radiating youth and joy, and I was calm—for the most part. 

"Yea, it was," I agreed. "Hey, Jack?" I thought of what I was going to say. What question to ask first concerning all the doubts I still had in my head.

"Yea?" He turned. I looked into his eyes again, and the decision was made. 

I had nothing to ask.

So I pulled him down to my level, grounding myself with his shirt. His lips brushing against mine for only a few sweet, heated seconds. I opened my eyes, scanning his face for a sign of anger, disgust, or discomfort; but I saw nothing. Nothing but a red-faced Irishman breathing heavily as he clutched his chest. I couldn't help but lightheartedly giggle.

Placing my hand on his shoulder, I whisper in his ear.

"Thank you, Jack."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoop whoop! A thing happened! Yay! 
> 
> As always, leave me your comments and kudos so I can see how I'm doing. Honestly, I looked back at my old comments, and I felt so bad for not making an effort to craft time for this fic. I'll try to put more effort into this in the future; but for now, I hope you can hang on tight. I can finish this! I promise!


	17. Break

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look who still hasn't died yet! I'm glad I could write another chapter before my three-month hibernation. At least that's the pattern I noticed. My motivation and inspiration just dance away with Pennywise. I blame the government and myself—but mostly the government. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy!

The ride home was surprisingly less awkward than I thought it was going to be; the air didn't suffocate me, Jack was breathing normally, and Aya was senselessly babbling on about something she'd seen on TV. I was relieved. 

However, the soreness of my heart just wouldn't go away; I didn't know why. The momentary clarity in my mind had been overthrown by a fogginess I couldn't identify. Thankfully, the ride wasn't long either. As soon as we made it to our room, I excused myself to the bathroom to take a shower; it didn't help. If anything, it gave a physical embodiment to the cloud looming inside of me. 

I tried to search within myself for the reason why this throbbing was overtaking me, but the mirror was as clouded as I was. Swiping my hand over it only resulted in a flash of clarity before a new layer of humidity covered the space I'd cleared, leaving a scar on the mirror where I'd tried to see. It was menacing—almost petrifying, so I ignored it.

I walked out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped securely around my hips, heading toward the suitcase that held my clothes. It was relatively hot outside, not as much as California; but it was warm. However, the impending rain brought dark clouds with it. Typical. I didn't even have to look at the weather though, I had the same type of clothes packed. I didn't matter. 

I was marching away with my clothes, eager to escape the chilled air being pushed out by the fan when I accidentally run into Jack. Or rather, Jack stopped me. I furrowed my brow, perplexed as to why he would blatantly stop me in the middle of - oh! I recognized that hue of pink, the flaring nostrils, the tense shoulders. He must have been uncomfortable with me prancing around in a towel. Uncomfortable. Was that the right word?

"I need to go cha-" I was in the midst of explaining myself when Jack's lips stole the last syllables of my sentence. Lightning struck, the thunder shaking everything in its wake. The softness of his lips deceiving. Instead of being exhilarating, it was terrifying. The throbbing in my chest sharpened, piercing through my heart in places that were already bruised. My heart thrashed against my ribcage, begging me to pull away. But why? I'd kissed him before—just a few moments ago. That had been liberating. This was different. This was painful. Agonizingly painful. 

A phone rang. Jack's phone rang. I knew who it was. Then, I knew why I felt this way. Had it been ringing this entire time?

I pushed him away, trying to be as gentle as I could as to not seem as panicked as I was. I fixed my gaze onto a stain right beside the bed; I couldn't look at him. There was no doubt in my mind that the moment my eyes met his, I would detonate. 

"Your phone," I whispered between labored breaths. 

"I can get it later,' he huffed. "She doesn't-"

"Your phone," I repeated sternly, taking advantage of the short distance between us to dash into the bathroom. 

The mirror was somewhat clear now, the mark where my hand had been almost completely gone. I never thought I'd wish to be in the fog again, but there I was—begging to rewind time to when I didn't feel this guilty or naïve. I looked into the mirror, seeing my features twisted by the borderline physical distress. 

I dropped to my knees before the sink, the weight of my heart anchoring me to the floor. I could hear the tooth-rotting way Jack spoke, the sweet words laced with sour emotions. There was an unbearable heat behind them, but it was by no means enjoyable. I did that. I caused that. If I'd kept my hands to myself—if I'd kept everything to myself—none of this would be happening. 

"Daddy!" Aya called, not bothering to knock at the door. "I need to pee!" As quickly as I'd fallen to my knees I jumped to my feet, clothing myself in the blink of an eye. There were many things in life that were meant to be suppressed, but Aya's bladder was not one of them. 

I stepped out of the bathroom, somewhat drying my hair with a towel I'd brought out with me. Jack was nonchalantly splayed on the bed, phone in hand, chatting away with his girlfriend on the other line. There was an evident lack of sync between his facial features and the tone of his voice. The scene was unsettling, something I never expected from Jack. It only served to confuse me further

As soon as Aya came out of the bathroom I held her hand and slipped out the door. There was nothing on me other than some money and my phone. I needed to breathe; I turned off my phone, disruptions threatening to be the end of me. It was chilly outside, the sun being nowhere in sight—completely encapsulated by a mass of tempest gray. 

"Why are we going outside?" Aya questioned. It would have been a miracle if she hadn't asked; but at the end of the day, she was just a child. Of course, she wanted to know why her father was running away with her again; it was expected. 

"Jack can't talk comfortably on the phone while we're in there, Sweetie," I made up whatever excuse that would suffice for her. Apparently, that made enough sense. In a way, it was the truth. It was my fault that Jack was disconnecting to his girlfriend; I was the elephant in the room. I didn't want to make things worse than they already were just because my emotions played me like I was their puppet—and rightfully so. They were my masters, and they did with me as they pleased. 

"Where are we going?" She stared expectantly, purposefully slowing her pace so we could reach a stopping point. 

"We're going to a place that has lots of treats," I decided at that very moment. "Do you want some treats?"

Aya's entire face lit up like if the sun, currently hidden in the clouds, had chosen to reside within her very essence. It was for that expression that I dedicated my every breath. Because she was my sun, I revolved around her. I would let myself go blind if it meant her happiness, even if the darkness of life consumed me in the process. 

We continued to walk until we eventually ran into a bakery. The brightly decorated sweets on display caught Aya's attention in an instant; she tugged my sleeve, leading me inside the establishment. The first word that came to mind when I saw it was cozy. The decoration was simple but not basic. All the attention gravitating toward the product and nothing; I supposed that was the point of it all. I positioned Aya in front of me so she could see all the things this place had to offer. 

"You can pick one for you and one for Jack," I whispered into her ear, and she nodded vigorously as she carefully studied each of the cupcakes. I opened my mouth to voice what I wanted, but a light tapping on my shoulder silenced me. I turned slowly, afraid that Jack had followed us out here; I wasn't prepared to face him just yet. However, the sight before me was paralyzing in the sweetest of ways. 

"Wade?" I choked, voice cracking like a prepubescent teen. I was unaware my cheeks could stretch so wide. 

"Oh my God, Mark! It's actually you!" He hollered, wrapping his arms around my torso, patting my back like he was trying to force me to regurgitate my lungs out. Wade always gave strong hugs; I was happy to see that that hadn't changed. 

"Daddy, who's that?" Aya chimed in, worming her way between me and Wade. It was interesting to see the waves of emotion pass through his face. Confusion, shock, denial, and excitement all partaking in the collage of feelings. 

"You have a daughter?!" Wade continued yelling. I was sure the poor girl behind the counter was begging us to hurry up so she could get back to whatever she was doing before we got there. 

"Yes, now let me order my stuff. Then, I'll tell you everything you want to know," I stated, immediately regretting my choice of words, but it would have to do. Aya ordered a lemon cupcake for herself and a strawberry one for Jack; I just pointed at a random one, coincidentally, getting German chocolate. 

"Of course you would," I heard Wade stifle a laugh from behind me. As tempted to give him a history lesson as I was, I wanted to savor the familiarity of this atmosphere that felt almost too unbelievable to be true. He treated me no different than what I imagined he would treat me if I hadn't left a few years ago. 

Wade had gone to the bakery to pick up an order; he seemed a lot more ecstatic than what I envisioned others to be, but this was Wade. He would be restlessly excited over anything. Upon hitting the chilled air outside the bakery, a sly grin crafted itself naturally onto his face. It was uncanny how well that expression fit him. 

"You have a lot of questions to answer, young man," he nudged my shoulder, looking out for Aya who was obediently holding my hand as if we'd been stitched together. 

"You're barely more than two months older than me," I scoffed. 

"But I'm still older than you. Young. Man," Wade pointed out, a smug expression appearing on his features that I could only roll my eyes to. 

"So," He continued "What's this cutie's name?" He peered from beside me to eyeball Aya as if I couldn't figure out who he was talking about otherwise. 

"What's your name, baby?" I prompted Aya. She didn't need practice with social skills; she had the gift of instantly gaining people's undivided attention, making it easy for her to speak her heart out to anyone that was willing to listen. Needless to say, I could learn a thing or two from her rather than vice versa. 

"Aya Gissele," she proudly announced with a confidence I wished I had, swinging her hands to and fro. "I'm three!" She went on, holding three fingers up at Wade in case he hadn't heard her clearly. 

"That's a pretty name!" Wade smiled, leaning toward my ear to probably comment something snarky. "If she wasn't physically a carbon copy of you, I'd say you stole her." 

"Who wouldn't?" I played along, scooping Aya into my arms. Her legs seemed to hang a little more than they used to; she was growing too fast for my liking. 

"Right," he agreed, lightly pinching one of Aya's cheeks. "So, are you staying at your mom's?" He asked. The question, although innocent and genuine, was salt onto a gaping wound. I resisted the urge to wince at the mentioning of my mom—just barely. 

"No," I deadpanned. "I'm staying at a hotel with a friend from LA," I offered more of a response. 

"Mom must not have taken too kindly to your visit." Wade pat my shoulder awkwardly like he always had whenever he had no idea how to make me feel about a certain situation. I exhaled a breath that seemed to have made a knot in my throat. 

"I'm still that easy to read, huh?" I chuckled dryly. 

"I think you forget that I've known you for an eternity," he teased. "You've never been good at hiding your feelings, Mark. Basically, everything links to them." I wasn't sure if that was a good or a bad thing, but knowing that it was Wade made things lighter on my soul and easier to swallow. 

"Anyway, I got this cake for my wife's birthday today. Bob and his wife are supposed to be coming over to celebrate with us. You should come over." Hope was everywhere on his skin, basically radiating from him. 

I wanted nothing more than to mindlessly accept and tag along with him, but I hated the notion of just leaving Jack alone. I felt like marching out of the room like that was bad enough; I hadn't even checked my phone for texts or missed calls yet. He must have been worried. Just in case, I decided to check my phone—nothing. He must still be on the phone with his girlfriend. Their conversations could last hours, after all. 

"I don't remember where you live," I spoke honestly, ashamed that I couldn't remember one of my best friend's address. 

"Like that's even a problem, Mark. I'll just take you with me now, duh," He laughed. "Besides," he paused, "you still have a lot of questions to answer." 

"Of course," I agreed, walking along with Wade as he took us to his car.

"What about Jack's cupcake, Daddy?" Aya asked sadly, staring down at the plastic bag I was carrying. 

"We'll just have to eat them later so Jack doesn't have to eat his alone, okay?" I offered, seemingly appeasing her for the time being. That was all I needed; hopefully, familiar faces could drown out the throbbing in my veins. That was all I could look forward to, for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! As always, leave me your comments and kudos to let me know how I'm doing. I love you all! Have a fantastic day!!!


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